


A Conspiracy of Ravens

by stickmarionette



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Politics, Unconventional Relationship, court intrigue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickmarionette/pseuds/stickmarionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Charles Francis Essex made an excellent courtier. As the son of Nathaniel Essex, a land-less diplomat, he had little to his name that he had not procured by his own devices, and luckily for him those devices were considerable.</i>
</p><p>When Princess Raven of Symkaria travels to Genosha to fulfil her marriage contract with its Crown Prince, she finds himself caught up in the storm brewing between Prince Erik and Sebastian Shaw, the Regent of the realm. She can only be thankful that her trusted advisor and friend Charles is with her; but as she's about to discover, he's got his own agenda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed warnings, applicable to the whole fic: past child abuse, minor character death, legal (but not emotional) infidelity, the bad guys being misogynistic, slut-shaming jerks.

_circa Regna tonat_ (around the throne thunder rolls) - Thomas Wyatt, 1536

 

_Being an alternative history of events in the Kingdoms of Genosha and Symkaria in the years leading up to unification._

The official histories drafted during the reign of the House of Marko recount the events leading up to the rule of Kurt III thus:

> _The last days of Brian II were dark times, full of unrest and unprecedented depravity. It was near universally acknowledged that the weakness of the Crown was to blame. The House of Xavier had allowed their royal blood to become diluted through marriage to the low-born, and Brian II did not have power enough to enforce the peace. Few were surprised when the King died of a weak heart, followed swiftly by the child Prince._
> 
> _In the bloody struggle that ensued, one man emerged with honour intact, wielding the power that was the birthright of the royal houses of Symkaria and their sister kingdom Genosha. Kurt III, head of the House of Marko, which traces its descent through the same lines as the House of Xavier, and which had never allowed its blood to become tainted, became the rightful new ruler of Symkaria. The two Houses were united through marriage when Kurt III wed Brian II's widow Queen Sharon, and thus began the rule of the House of Marko, ushering in an era of peace and prosperity._

As most are now aware, this is not what happened. This alternative history is the story of how the truth came to light. 


	2. Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Charles arrive in Genosha and both proceed to make a few friends.

Charles Francis Essex made an excellent courtier. As the son of Nathaniel Essex, a land-less diplomat, he had little to his name that he had not procured by his own devices, and luckily for him those devices were considerable. It was almost uncanny, the way he always knew when to be amusing and when to be serious, always disappearing and appearing at exactly the right moment.

He was highly popular at court - some would say to an improper extent - and had by a combination of luck and design become a confidant to His Majesty's only daughter, the Princess Raven. When the Princess became engaged to be married to the Crown Prince of Genosha, it was natural for the King to send him along as a trusted advisor.

"How do I look?"

Charles paced a circle around Raven, gaze tracking from the golden circlet on her head to the shine of her polished red heels. "Poised, untouchable, beautiful. Everything a princess should be."

Raven made a most un-princess-like face. "Urgh. I hate this. I hate pretending. If all anyone knew of me was this I think I'd go mad."

Charles pulled her closer by the wrist and kissed her hair, her forehead, the soft, perfumed skin of her temple. "It's all right. I'm here. I know the Raven who throws amazing tantrums and knows how to wrap anyone around her little finger. I know the real you."

"Thank God someone does," Raven said mulishly, although she'd relaxed in his embrace and was fighting a smile. "You know, half the Palace thinks we're fucking."

"Half the Palace thinks I've fucked the other half," Charles said. A few silky strands of Raven's gold hair had come loose. He tucked them back behind her ear, humming thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, a lack of discretion on my part shouldn't reflect on you."

Raven rolled her eyes. "Charles, I don't mind."

Charles adjusted her circlet. "You have to mind. Remember, now. You're playing a long game."

"It's not my game, it's my father's. I'm nothing but a pawn."

Raven said it calmly, like she really was a dutiful daughter resigned to her fate. Only the flintiness of her gaze hinted at the truth. He placed two fingers under her chin, pressing in gently until she raised her head, so that she was looking down at him.

"That's where you're wrong. It won't matter what His Majesty wants, not when you're hundreds of miles away. You don't have to be a pawn. Be the queen."

"I'm glad you're going with me," Raven said, very solemnly.

Charles smiled his polished, precise smile. "Always happy to serve, Your Highness."

 

* * *

 

The flight from Aniana to Hammer Bay normally took three hours. In the King's private jet, they could cut it down to two. Raven found herself wishing she'd somehow convinced her father to let her fly commercial. That way, at least, it would feel like she'd actually gone somewhere else. With a full escort it was going to be palace to limo to jet to limo to palace, and with her movement sure to be restricted for her first few months in Genosha, she might as well have not left Aniana at all.

But her father and the Genoshan delegation both wished for speed and discretion, so it was the royal treatment or nothing.

Some of her maids had gazed out the windows as they left the tarmac, tearfully bidding their homeland goodbye. Raven supposed she might feel the same way in a month or so, when the strangeness of a new culture got to her. For now, she was simply excited, a caged bird flying free.

If Charles felt anything at all about leaving his home country behind, it didn't show on his face. He looked as if the cup of coffee he was pouring held all the mysteries of the universe. 

"Here you are, Your Highness. Drink up, I suspect you'll need the energy."

There were times when she wondered what kind of young man volunteered for a role usually played by ladies in waiting, and did it impeccably. At first she'd thought he hoped to gain some advantage by seducing her. It wasn't an unusual thought; she'd been fending off advances ever since she turned fifteen, and was already quite good at rejecting men of all stations.

In some ways, Charles was just like those stupid nobles' sons. He was charming, confident to a fault, and pretty enough to lean on his looks. But as she'd quickly discovered when she tried to let him down with some grace, he was nothing like them in the ways that counted. 

That was why she wouldn't swap him for anyone, especially when she was heading into the unknown.

Raven took a careful sip of her coffee. "So. What do we know about my future husband?"

"Quite a lot, as it happens," Charles said. His smile was approving; he liked that she'd thought to ask. "The most important thing for your purposes is that he really should be Erik V by now. Jakob II died fifteen years ago."

"Meaning - meaning he's being kept from the throne. By who?"

"Exactly, yes. My sources say the culprit is the Regent, Sebastian Shaw, otherwise known as His Grace the Duke of Terrigen. Big duchy, very nice court in Carrion Cove. The title's only his by marriage, though. Terrigen belongs to the House of Frost, and he's got no say there. Rumour says that he and the Duchess don't get along."

And _that_ was why she kept him around.

"Does she come to court?"

"Sometimes. Her name is Emma, you'll want to keep an eye on her." 

Emma of Terrigen. That name sounded familiar. Something her father had said - "Both of them have royal blood?"

"Yes. It is said that the Duchess can read minds. Limits - I'm not sure about. Shaw's is to do with energy."

Raven nodded. "Do you think I should let on about my power? Hank says I shouldn't."

Charles' expression turned thoughtful at the mention of her personal physician, Doctor Hank McCoy, who was currently dozing about half a dozen seats down.

"He's right, although I'm not sure his reasoning matches mine. You'll probably have to demonstrate a bit for the Prince's satisfaction, but I'd advise keeping your secrets as closely as you can. Don't let them know the full extent of what you can do."

In their two years together she'd hardly ever seen him look so serious. For the first time, she felt apprehensive about what awaited her upon landing.

_Trust no one. Right._

"Worse case scenario?"

"Exactly," Charles said approvingly.

Her power wasn't much good for combat, and she couldn't hold a full transformation for long. If she needed to hide, though, it could come in very handy.

The powers of the royal houses of Genosha and Symkaria were something of a taboo topic; the relative strengths and weaknesses of those powers even more so. Raven vividly recalled getting cuffed by her elder brother the Crown Prince as a child when she had asked him why his strengthening power only worked on one part of the body at a time.

"How powerful is Erik? Wasn't his mother low-born?"

Charles raised his eyebrows. "What did I tell you when you argued with His Majesty two weeks ago? The dilution of blood is a myth. It doesn't actually matter. Look at the King your father - hardly any power to speak of. And yet you've enough to burn."

The arguement had been about the Queen her mother, who had died - some say of a broken heart, although never in her hearing - when Raven was just ten years old.

Her father had ordered her to never speak of _that common drunk_ again.

All her life, Raven had been in awe of her royal father. The distance he kept from her only made him seem greater, like a figure of myth. But at that moment she saw him for what he truly was, and a previously soft part of her became hard as diamond.

"It's treason to talk about the King my father like that, as you well know," she said, not even pretending to mean it.

She only noticed that her hand was shaking when Charles enveloped it in between both of his. Then he looked at her as if she was the only person in the world, and it ceased to matter. 

"That's why I can only be honest with you."

 

*

 

As the royal jet circled Astoria Airport on the way to landing, Hammer Bay stretched out before her in bold splashes of colour, all vivid blues and greens, and Raven thought she'd never seen anything so beautiful. Aniana already seemed dull in comparison.

"Ready for your public, Your Highness?" said Johanna, her chief lady-in-waiting. 

Raven snorted in a most un-lady-like manner. "You're kidding, right?"

The Regent of Genosha had bid her bring as many servants as she liked, but restricted her to only one lady of rank, a stipulation she'd protested vigorously until her father shut her down. It turned out to be a moot point, anyway, when only Johanna turned out to be willing to abandon her own life and follow her princess abroad.

Lady Johanna Morales was the third daughter of a minor Earl, sarcastic, headstrong and not much liked at court; Raven was not close to her. Despite all of that, she was glad that Johanna had volunteered. At least she talked to Raven as if she was a grown-up, and her abrasive honesty would be welcome in a new land where Raven would have to guard against false friends.

Charles' hand landed on her shoulder. "Don't worry, there's no public to speak of. The Genoshans didn't want to make too much fuss before the actual wedding."

"Surely that's an insult," Hank said from behind her. She didn't need to see his face to know the indignant expression that would be on it. He'd been wearing it increasingly often over the past two weeks. "He's not marrying some commoner. Her Highness is the daughter of a King."

"I rather think that's the point," Charles said. He squeezed her shoulder before giving her a light push. "Come on, Your Highness, let's meet your groom to be. I hear he's very handsome."

Johanna barked a harsh laugh. "So that's why you wanted to come along, Essex."

"Oh, no. Quite frankly, I don't think the Prince has any hope of matching up to the standards set by your darling brother, Johanna," Charles said sweetly.

If looks could kill, he'd be a puddle on the carpeted floor. His smile never wavered as Johanna glared.

Raven giggled. She couldn't help it. And once she started, she couldn't stop either, until Johanna had to hold her up and she could hardly breathe. Strangely, she felt a lot better.

"Thanks, guys. I think I'm good to go now."

As they lined up in preparation for descending onto the tarmac, she heard Johanna's voice again, hushed this time. "Please never tell me if you actually did sleep with Ferdinand."

(Raven privately thought - and would never, ever say out loud - that Ferdinand's prospects were far too minor for Charles to bother with, based on his rumoured track record.)

Charles laughed. "Of course not."

That laugh had become so familiar that it warmed something inside her to hear it. She squared her shoulders as the stewardess came forward to lead her out.

It was a beautiful day in Hammer Bay. Raven fancied she could taste the salt of the sea on the air with each breath, and for a moment her heart was light. 

She took a few more deep breaths, put away her fancies and became the princess.

Prince Erik was just as handsome as reports claimed. He was very tall, very thin, and had a face that seemed carved from stone, all clean lines, chiseled features and the whole just as forbidding as any statue. The older, patrician man standing behind him seemed positively friendly by comparison, even if his smile made Raven distinctively uneasy. This must be the infamous Regent.

When she stopped at the appropriate distance, the Prince took a step forward. His head whipped around when he noticed that the Regent had done the same thing, and it took him a moment too long to hide his displeasure.

Raven couldn't help but judge him for the slip. She couldn't fathom how anyone could grow up in a royal palace without working out a way to conceal their temper. The thought bought on a vivid memory of her governess Elisabetta telling her to keep something in her pocket that she could squeeze when she felt her own temper boiling over, and she had to work to keep her smile from going all wobbly.

"Welcome to Genosha, Princess," the Prince said stiffly.

Raven knew she was supposed to curtsey, but something kept her rooted to the spot, standing ram-rod straight, staring up into his face. "Raven. We're to be married, Your Highness. I think you can refer to me by name."

The Prince's face split into a wide smile that seemed perfectly genuine and was no less unsettling for it. "Then you must call me Erik. I insist." Then he paused, long enough for the suspicion that he was considering ignoring protocol before turning to indicate his companion. "May I present the Regent of Genosha, Sebastian Shaw."

Raven inclined her head. "Your Grace."

"Your Highness," Shaw returned with a genteel smile. "I hope your first impressions of Genosha have been favourable."

"Oh, yes. It's such a beautiful country," Raven said quickly. She had the familiar, creeping feeling that another conversation was being conducted over her head, like one of her father's hissed arguments over the phone. 

"A land worthy of the great queen Your Highness will make," Charles murmured, loud enough that it was definitely not intended to be a private comment. Raven saw Erik's gaze shift and fix, laser-like, on the man standing a little behind her.

"And this is?"

Raven realized that she hadn't planned how she was going to introduce Charles. Officially, he didn't even have a diplomat's commission. 

"My apologies. This is Charles Essex, a dear friend of mine at court." 

Shaw raised his eyebrows and Raven keenly felt for the first time the lack of a title preceding Charles' name. She should have asked her father to ennoble him, screw what gossip would have said about it. 

Charles himself seemed cheerfully oblivious to the condescension. He bowed very low, straightening with his polished courtier's smile. "Your Highness, Your Grace. It's an honour to be here."

"Doing what?" Erik said abruptly.

Raven had to fight down her own flare of temper. Fortunately, Shaw pre-empted her by making a quelling gesture, only subsiding when Erik glared at him. "Really, Your Highness - "

"Whatever the royal couple-to-be requires of me," Charles said. Probably no one else heard the laugh in his voice, but she sure did. He inclined his head at the jet, all but ignoring the head of state and heir to the throne, who were both giving him thoughtful looks. "Your Highness, shall I make arrangements for your luggage to be transported to the Palace?"

_Hell no, you're not leaving me alone with these two._

Raven shook her head. "Johanna can do that."

She had the uncomfortable, prickly feeling of being closely watched the entire time as she gave Johanna instructions on what needed to be done. When she was finished, though, both Shaw and Erik had their poker faces back on.

_If that's how you want to play it..._

Raven pulled on her best smile. "Well, shall we go?"

 

*

 

She'd ended sitting next to Erik in the sleek black stretch limo, with Shaw, Charles and a gorgeous young woman ( _"It's such an honour, Your Highness. I'm Angel Salvadore, I head up the Crown Prince's household."_ ) on the other side.

If Shaw was disgruntled to be seated next to two commoners, he was wise enough to disguise it underneath an ingratiating smile.

"I apologize for the unseemly haste. His Highness has been pushing for your arrival ever since you came of age."

Beside her, Erik had gone very still. It was easy, then, to work out what she had to say. "That's not a problem. I wanted to come earlier, actually, but the King my father wouldn't allow it."

It was amazing what a few words could do. She now felt like she was sitting beside an actual human being instead of a statue. Erik turned to her with a smile. "Would you like a drink?" 

The metal door of the small fridge opened without anyone touching it. Raven felt the beginnings of a real smile on her face.

"Just a cola, if you have one. Thank you."

She sipped her drink quietly until the prickly feeling of being watched returned again. This time it was Charles raising his eyebrows at her. At first, she thought it was a comment on her sensible choice of drink. Then she followed his gaze to the world outside her window and understood, as always, what he'd meant for her to do.

Someone clearly wanted the arrival of the Princess of Symkaria to go unnoticed. In which case it was in her best interests to be conspicuous, and that was something Raven had always been good at.

She leaned across to the intercom and thumbed it on. "Stop, please. Could you park on the side of the road?"

The driver sounded utterly confused. "Your Highness - "

"Please? Just for a few minutes?"

There was quite a long pause. "As you wish."

When she turned back to the rest of the limo, Erik and Shaw were both staring at her again. She put on her most innocent smile. "I want to see my new home. And my people should get a chance to see me."

Neither of them were looking at Charles, so they completely missed the pride and approval lighting up his bright eyes.

 

*

 

Outside, the breeze felt wonderful on her skin, and the smell of the ocean was intoxicating. Their poor driver had a hell of a time parking a massive limo in the meager spaces provided by the side of the road, though, and they were attracting attention, just as she'd wanted.

She approached a street vendor selling ice cream. There was an idea. Were princesses allowed to eat street food in Genosha? "Good morning."

The sandy-haired young man minding the stall gave her a rather obvious once-over, and stood up straighter. "Hey, miss. Are you a tourist?"

_I wish._

"Not exactly. I'm Raven of Symkaria."

She let her hair go copper red. With such localized transformations she could easily hold the change for hours, and it was terribly distinctive as far as demonstrations went.

The potential customer hovering behind her got it first. "Oh my God, It's the Princess! Princess Raven!"

_Thank God somebody reads nobility gossip._

The ice cream vendor was now staring, slack-jawed. "W-what are you doing in Hammer Bay, Highness?"

Raven found her most camera-ready smile. "Don't you know? I'm here to get married to your Prince Erik."

She could hear the click and flash of cameraphones; no doubt someone was taking video too. Perfect.

"Well, I'm off to the Palace with my intended. It was really nice seeing all of you."

Charles helped her back into the limo with a whispered _well done_.

 

* * *

 

Erik had always found the ceremonial duties expected of him far more tiring and onerous than military service ever was, but even he was not usually this taxed by half a day's worth of entertaining his bride-to-be.

She wasn't the problem; in fact, she seemed perfectly lovely, every bit as suitable as the Ambassador had promised. He could very easily see himself married to her. It was spending so much time with Shaw that grated on his nerves.

Just as he was about to make his excuses and escape, Angel had given him a meaningful look and gestured to the audience chamber in his private rooms. So Shaw wanted to talk things over. Wonderful.

Come on, he told himself. You've endured staring into this man's eyes and wondering whether his was the hand that ended your parents' lives for fifteen years, what's a few more weeks? Months, at the most. With marriage, the Laws of Succession would kick in, and then - 

Then Erik would have the answers he'd been looking for, by whatever means necessary.

"What did you think of the Princess?" Shaw said.

"She seemed fine," Erik replied flatly. Then, realising his error (Angel was giving him her patented unimpressed look behind Shaw's back) he went on quickly. "Very beautiful. Lively. I'm happy with her."

Shaw smirked. That pause had been too long after all. "Well, good. Personally, I'm curious about that young man of hers."

"Charles Essex, bosom friend and close confidant of the Princess," Angel said instantly. Trust her to know the latest gossip, even on new arrivals. "Interesting that he's here. I've heard that they're lovers."

Shaw laughed. "A princess bringing her lover along as dowry? They sure do things strangely in Symkaria. Well, Your Highness?"

Erik very carefully refrained from baring his teeth. "I will call on the Princess' entourage this afternoon to make further arrangements. We should put out a joint press release on the upcoming wedding."

Whatever her motivations, Raven's little stunt at the beach had made a public announcement absolutely necessary. Shaw's genteel mask flickered - for the briefest moment, but long enough for Erik to catch him - when he realized that he'd been defeated on that count.

"As you wish. If there's nothing else I'll take my leave, Your Highness."

Erik waved him off, trying not to appear too eager.

It was sad day indeed when the Prince of the realm had no almost one he could trust, but that was exactly the situation Erik found himself in. Even Angel, who he had known for more than ten years, had come to him from the glittering court of the Duchess of Terrigen, and the Duchess herself was the most untrustworthy, self-interested ally of them all.

"He prompted her," Angel said thoughtfully.

"Excuse me?"

"Essex, I saw him prompt Her Highness before she asked to leave the limo." Her smile turned mischievous. "I don't think it's a simple case of a girl being silly enough to bring her lover along, however cute he is."

Erik didn't think so either. He hadn't from the moment Essex had spoken up to cover for Raven when Shaw had attempted to lure her into error - _a land worthy of the great queen Your Highness will make_ , indeed. No idle remark, that; nothing less than a calculated shot across Shaw's bows.

Then there was the way he had looked at Erik with blue eyes that seemed all too knowing, not a flicker in their still depths when Erik had tried to provoke him. The unsettling red curve of his smile. 

Erik gave himself a mental shake. Now was definitely not the time to dwell. "Why didn't you say this while the Regent was here?" he asked Angel, a lot more peevishly than she deserved.

Unfortunately, Angel had been able to read him like a book for years. She smiled like she knew exactly why he was suddenly so ill-tempered. "Your Highness knows perfectly well why."

Moments like these he was almost completely convinced that she had to be on his side. But he couldn't be sure. Sometimes that seemed like Shaw's greatest success, making sure Erik was friendless because he couldn't ever afford to trust anyone.

 

* * *

 

Raven's new rooms were lavish, almost ridiculously so. It might have been someone's idea of a joke to give her a set of rooms that looked like the inside of a girl's dollhouse, all pastels and flowery wallpaper, but the couches were incredibly comfortable and the audience room had spectacular views of the Imperial Gardens, so she wasn't going to complain too much.

After a day of sitting like a princess, being able to slouch on the ridiculous, massive white leather coach felt amazing. "Johanna did a good job getting everything settled so fast."

"I'm glad she's here. We're going to need all the advantages we can get," Charles said tersely, his tone completely at odds with his usual boneless sprawl.

"What's wrong?"

Charles took a sip of his tea, considering. "The Regent doesn't want the marriage to go ahead. I'm fairly certain he was the one who arranged for your arrival to be so low-key. Well done again, by the way. That was brilliant."

Raven ducked his head so that he wouldn't see her blush. "I just wanted to see the beach."

"Mmm. Really, now," Charles said warmly.

"Well, maybe your scheming has rubbed off on me a little." Raven frowned. "I need to know more about Angel Salvadore. Aren't heads of household supposed to be...older?"

Charles set his teacup down carefully. "Jealous?"

"Why should I be? I hardly know the Prince. This marriage was't exactly my idea," Raven said dismissively. Then she remembered what she'd been meaning to tease Charles about. "Speaking of which, I think Hank is jealous of you. He was giving us some strange looks earlier."

That got his attention, just as she'd thought. He leaned forward, bracing an elbow against the armrest and resting his chin on his palm. "Really. Because I touch you casually?" A thoughtful pause. "Do you want to make him jealous, Your Highness? We can do that."

Now she really was blushing. "He's a good doctor. But I - I don't know."

Hank was a good friend. He made her feel safe and warm. Maybe that was what she was supposed to be looking for in a man, but a part of her was waiting for the spark she'd been reading about and seeing on screen all her life, and she had certainly never felt anything like that.

"You're young yet, you've got plenty of time for lovers," Charles said lightly; teasing, but not without the weight of empathy.

Raven snorted. "You're what, five years older than me?"

"Six, actually, and I've had plenty of time." 

Raven swatted at his shoulder with a stray coat hanger until he put the lascivious grin away. "You always know what people need. What about the Crown Prince of Genosha? Does he need anything?"

Charles was silent a long time before he gave an unexpectedly serious answer. "A friend, maybe."

Raven grinned. "Up for a challenge?" 

"A challenge is, I think, probably the correct term," Charles said slowly, the beginnings of a dangerous smile on his face. "He's definitely going to be difficult about it."

"Then you absolutely have to try. If anything, it'd be a novelty to see someone say no to you at long last."

She could have swore she saw a strange look in Charles' eyes then, but it was gone in an instant, and all that remained was the same smile. "You over-estimate my charm. People reject me all the time, you just don't see it."

"Don't be modest. You have a gift."

"Then it would be remiss of me to refuse."

 

*

 

Before Charles left on his business (or 'fishing trip' as he called it), he'd told her not to wander too far. In theory, she had the run of the Palace, but none of them were keen to test that just yet, not when their position was so uncertain.

An hour later, Raven was wandering the gilded halls alone, having left Johanna with the rest of the work that needed to be done to settle her household in the Palace. She blamed extreme boredom.

She was staring at the massive double doors leading to the gardens, wondering how much trouble she'd be in for going for a walk, when the doors slid open and a striking woman stopped right in front of her.

The woman's tall and slender form was wrapped in a massive blue cloak, her face covered by a gold mask.

"Your Highness has beautiful hair."

It was still in her favourite shade of copper red. Raven blushed. She was so caught up in the woman's low, throaty voice that she almost failed to notice the obvious problem.

The mask had no eye holes. So how could -

Power granted by royal blood, Raven realized with a shock. This woman must be a noble.

"Thank you. Ah - may I ask your name?"

She hadn't fumbled an introduction since she was a very young girl. Thankfully, the other woman seemed charmed rather than put off by her hesitancy.

"Of course. They call me Madame Destiny, because I can see the future, or something close to it. Welcome to Genosha, Queen-to-be."

The warmth of her voice made Raven certain that she was smiling beneath the mask.

Then she reached up with long-fingered hands and took it off, and Raven felt her eyes go wide. She had delicate features; high cheekbones, a sharp nose, wide dark eyes. Set into stillness, they were striking. If she laughed, or even smiled with real happiness, instead of a faint shadow of it, she'd be beautiful.

Raven wanted, suddenly, desperately, to make her laugh. 

Unfortunately, her mouth had instead found a new tendency to babble. "I think yours are the first words of welcome I've heard today that were actually aimed at me as a person. I'm grateful to you, Madame."

It wasn't a laugh, but she did get a new smile, private and affectionate, that made her feel strangely light. "You'll like it here. The caged bird flying free at last."

Hadn't she thought just that, when the royal jet had left Aniana? And yet, since then the first moment of true freedom she'd had was this conversation with a stranger, with whom she could be nothing but honest.

"I hope so. There's so much I want to do - "

"There you are, Your Highness - Oh." Angel came to a stop, contrition all over her face. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Highness, Your Grace."

The lady inclined her head politely, although her soft smile had vanished. "It's all right, Angel. I should go. Until we meet again, Your Highness." 

And with that, she glided away.

"Who was that?" Raven said blankly. She felt like she'd just been staring into the blazing Genoshan sun.

"Irene Adler, Countess of Seron." Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Angel grinned and went on. "In her own right. Don't worry, she's not married."

 _Crap._ Since when was she so transparent?

"I - I didn't - "

Angel sobered instantly. "Listen to me. I'm a survivor above everything else, Your Highness. That means I won't do anything stupid. Don't worry, your secret's safe."

"You promise? If this gets out - "

Charles was - she didn't know how he was going to react, which was scary in itself.

Angel smiled reassuringly. "It won't. Now, would you like me to contrive another meeting?"

 

* * *

 

Prince Erik, sole son and heir of the House of Lehnsherr, the man who would be King of Genosha. Charles had called him a challenge with a smile, and he was certainly determined to be difficult. Unfortunately for him, Charles could be difficult too.

They were in the Symkarian Wing of the Palace, renovated five years ago in preparation for the royal marriage. To Charles it seemed like some architecture student's homework gone wrong, a mock-Gothic monstrosity of high ceilings, arches everywhere and far, far too much limestone. Raven's new quarters might have been decorated by a five-year-old girl, but at least they were comfortable. The same could not have been said of the wood-backed couches in the audience room here. Not that either of them were sitting. Charles had to stand when Erik turned up, and Erik, it appeared, preferred to pace while he talked.

"What did His Majesty the King think about you coming here with Raven?"

"I don't know. He must have approved of it, since he let me," Charles said. He was being borderline insolent, and they both knew it. For a courtier with no title to speak of to talk to the Crown Prince of a foreign country like that was unthinkable. Either Erik's hold on his temper was better than advertised, or else he found Charles' cheek entertaining. 

"I strongly doubt that. The slightest hint of scandal, and I could call the marriage off."

Charles smiled. "With all due respect, Your Highness, you were never going to do that."

Erik stopped mid-step. He turned, military-sharp, and prowled toward Charles, eyes fixed on his face as if he could open Charles up by sheer force of will.

"What is it you want from me?"

Charles' back hit the wall. He let his lashes dip and his smile turn coy. "I should be asking that. Your Highness."

Erik took another step forward, bracketing Charles in. He had a swift impression of green eyes, bright as jewels and twice as hard, before Erik bent his head, his lips inches from the shell of Charles' ear. "You can't possibly imagine that you have anything to offer the Crown Prince of Genosha." 

Charles did not try to fight his natural reaction, which was to shiver. He tilted his head back and laughed, soft and intimate. As he'd thought, that alone was enough to make Erik draw back and frown thunderously at him. Charles summoned up his sweetest smile. "On the contrary, I think you need all the friends you can get." 

The words themselves were harmless. It was their implication that was going to make Erik angry. Right on cue, he flinched back and made as if to leave the room. 

Charles raised his voice and filled it with certainty and authority unbecoming a lowly courtier. "If a Prince is not married he has not attained majority; if he has not attained majority he cannot rule on his own behalf. It's obvious why you're in such a hurry to marry the Princess." 

Erik stopped walking. The line of his back was rigid with tension, as if he wanted more than anything to leave, but he stayed almost unnaturally still.

"Go on."

"Thank you. Consider: the Regent has been de facto ruler of Genosha for fifteen years. Men grow accustomed to having power. Do you really think he'll give up his position so easily?"

The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife. For a moment, Charles was genuinely uncertain of the outcome. Then Erik chuckled.

When he turned to face Charles again, the look on his face was hard-edged. "Not just a brightly-coloured songbird, then."

Charles bit his lip, feeling the intensity of that gaze as if it could generate real heat. An older Count had once told him that he had a complexion made for blushing. From the way Erik was now smirking, his previously grim mood forgotten, he agreed.

"Even a canary can be a bird of prey, Your Highness," he said softly.

Erik's mouth stretched itself into an unsettling grin. "What about a raven?"

Charles blinked - that he had not anticipated. But no matter - Erik was right, things would proceed more smoothly with her involved. "You see? We're beginning to understand each other, my friend," he said, and sketched a bow.

When he straightened, he had to suppress a flash of sweet triumph at the look on Erik's face. Behind the smug grin, the bright green eyes fixed on his face were perplexed. No, more than that, fascinated, and completely taken aback by it like someone unfamiliar with the feeling.

Often the coldest, most forbidding people were the ones most vulnerable to a little warmth. If Erik felt himself to be feared and deferred to he'd have grown bored quickly. Right now, he probably didn't know what to think. Charles felt himself smile.

Once, Raven had said to him, shaking her head and grinning ruefully, "when you get your hooks into someone you really play them for all they're worth."

_Necessity is the mother of invention, my dear Raven._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worryingly, most of this was produced while the Kooks' cover of Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People (you better run, better run, faster than my bullet) was stuck in my head.
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, I'm not going to specify where the two fictional kingdoms are. I've obviously had to move them since comics!Genosha is in Africa and comics!Symkaria is a small Balkan country. Aniana is the capital city of comics!Symkaria. Carrion Cove and Hammer Bay are the only place names associated with Genosha that I could find. The rest are all names of places from various branches of mythology.


	3. Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The in-no-way true story of how Sebastian Shaw became Regent of Genosha.

_Being an alternative history of events in the Kingdoms of Genosha and Symkaria in the years leading up to unification._

The official histories drafted during the reign of the Regent Sebastian Shaw recount the events leading up to his rule thus:

> The assassination of Jakob II and Queen Edie by an armed gunman during a routine tour of the Nothern Territories was a traumatic event for the Kingdom of Genosha. Harold Leland, then Minister of the Interior, later confessed to hiring the assassin. The King and Queen both died instantly.
> 
> According to the ancient Laws of Succession, if the heir to the throne is under the age of majority when the throne passes to them, they may not assume imperial authority until they are properly wed, after reaching said age. As Jakob II's only child Prince Erik was only seven years old at the time, His Grace the Duke of Terrigen took up the post of Regent, with the full authority and responsibilities of the King himself.

As most are now aware, this is not what happened. This alternative history is the story of how the truth came to light.


	4. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven wrestles with some difficult decisions and Erik finds himself in the kind of trouble he never expected. Meanwhile, the intrigue proceeds at pace.

Erik's parents were gunned down by an assassin when he was seven years old. It was only sheer chance that he hadn't been there too.

They were touring Seron, capital of the Northern Territories. The people there were quite used to visits from the royal couple, welcoming them with warmth but no frenzy. Not that Erik had noticed. He only knew that it was the first year he'd been allowed to come along, and that it might be fun to slip away from his minder while they were being shown the Botanical Gardens.

In the frantic aftermath, no one seemed to notice how or why he'd been absent from the scene. No one remembered who had found him and broken the news.

No one but Erik. 

He remembered Sebastian Shaw all but running into him in the depths of the Gardens. He remembered being told by Shaw that he'd done a terrible thing in running away, and that no one must know, or they would judge him for not being at his parents' side in their hour of need. It would have to be their secret.

Twisted up by the thought of somehow being culpable for what happened by not being there - his power over metal hadn't developed fully yet, it was doubtful whether he could have done anything to stop the bullets, but the mere possibility haunted him - it took him years to start wondering what Shaw had been doing in that area of the Gardens. 

Years, and a passing comment by the Duchess of Terrigen.

_"Do you know, Your Highness, I don't think I've ever met a man who hates nature more than Sebastian."_

After that, things became much clearer in his head. 

Erik's phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out to find a message from Angel.

_Madame Destiny is at court. Just thought you should know._

It was finally time.

 

* * *

 

"I've got something to tell you," Raven blurted. They were just polishing off breakfast - the palace chef made very good French toast - and if anyone else had been in the room, she'd have bitten her tongue off before saying anything. But it was only Charles at the foot of the table, cutting his own toast into tiny pieces and eating with the delicacy of a small bird. 

He took a careful sip of his tea before answering. "That's good, because I have something for Your Highness too."

"You start."

She waved her fork in his general direction just to see the disapproving wrinkle appear on his nose. He knew better than to insist on perfect manners while they were alone, and it was always fun to see him squirm over it.

Eventually, though, the prim look disappeared to be replaced by a familiar grin. "I made a friend."

Raven rolled her eyes. "I knew it. Well done? What's the appropriate response anyway?"

"Congratulations?" Charles said. "Seriously, though, it's not what you think."

Raven jabbed her fork at him. "Yet. With you, there's always the 'yet'."

"Guilty as charged," Charles shrugged, although she could see from the tense line of his back that he wasn't quite as blithe as he wanted her to think. "He's so young. I hadn't realized."

"Older than me," Raven said carefully.

"By four years. But Your Highness is, I think, cannier in some ways. More suited to intrigue."

There was honest admiration in his voice, and Raven couldn't help a pleased grin in response. "Flatterer. So what's the news?"

"I think we've already become involved in the conflict between His Highness and the Regent despite ourselves, just by being here."

She was afraid of that.

"Yes, Angel was telling me. That Shaw's an interesting guy."

"You talked to Angel? That's good, that'll speed things up."

Charles looked pleased, which could only be good for Raven's continuing health and sanity, considering the secret she now had to trust Angel with.

"I think I'm going to need her on my side. She knows a lot."

Charles nodded sharply. "Good call. Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"Nothing," Raven's mouth said without consulting with her brain, which never boded well. Charles didn't even have to say anything. He just raised an eyebrow and kept looking at her expectantly until she cracked. "Charles, I met someone."

"As in?" Charles said, in the same tone of voice he'd used when she'd been younger, wanting affection and not known how to ask.

"Someone I like," Raven whispered. "And I don't know what to do."

 

* * *

 

Most people at court thought it best for everyone that Irene Adler, Countess of Seron, liked her home comforts too much to come to court more than once in a blue moon. Irene knew that she was unnerving and didn't care to modify her behaviour to accommodate others. Personally, Angel thought it was rather neat, even when it made her life a little more complicated.

For example.

"Your Grace?" Angel said. She stood just inside the double doors to Irene's rooms, waiting.

The lights flickered on, and she was able to pick her way across to where Irene sat on a couch. She had her golden mask on again. In fact, Angel had never seen her take it off until yesterday. 

_The Princess must have made quite the first impression._

"Angel. I know you have questions for me, but let me go first. How is the Princess?"

She loved being right. Now, how to play this..."Fine."

"Please don't try to lie," Irene said serenely.

Angel put her smile away. "She's vulnerable. You need to convince me that you can be trusted with her first."

"Such concern, even though you just met?"

"If this goes wrong, I don't want to feel responsible because I let it happen," Angel said sharply. The golden mask gave nothing away, but Angel knew people. She knew when to push. "Please, Your Grace, give me something to go on."

Irene was still and silent for a long moment, long enough that Angel thought she'd miscalculated.

When she spoke again, her voice was firmer than Angel had ever heard it. "I will. Tell His Highness the Prince that I wish to see him, at his earliest convenience. I think it's time for the truth about Sebastian Shaw."

Angel narrowed her eyes. "Are you serious? How does that help your case?"

"Because I believe it would be wise to make sure that His Highness owes me a favour or two, now that I'm courting his intended," Irene said. Angel fancied she could hear a smile underneath the words. "Don't you think?"

 

* * *

 

"I saw it," Irene Adler said. "Not in person, but I saw it as clearly as if I had been there. Sebastian Shaw was responsible."

Erik should have felt vindicated. Instead, all he could manage was a hot wave of rage, threatening to overwhelm any shred of reason. He couldn't speak.

"Your Highness. Erik."

The first time he met Irene, she'd been a girl of six or seven, and her eyes could still see. She'd smiled at him bashfully behind a screen in the manor at Seron. The woman before him now, lanky and graceful, seemed nothing like that Irene, but she still said his name the same way.

The memory eased something deep in his chest. He could breathe again. "You've always known. Why tell me now?"

"Shaw has kept me away from you all these years for a reason. He always suspected that I might know something. He'd have me killed if it wouldn't send the North into chaos," Irene said, inscrutable behind her mask. "More importantly, you weren't ready. Now you are."

He had to take a few more deep breaths before he could speak. "Thank you, Madame. I won't forget what you've done for me."

Irene dropped into a perfect curtsey. "See that you don't. Your Highness."

 

* * *

 

"I think," Charles said, "that you ought to get to know Irene Adler better. Absolutely."

Sometimes she had no idea what he was thinking behind those watchful eyes. "Because she might know something?"

Charles stopped pacing right behind her chair. "Why do you think?

"I don't know. I just - " Since she left Aniana, thoughts of duty no longer had the same weight. Right now, she could close her eyes and picture Irene's smile more easily than her royal father's face. "I want to be able to choose something for myself. Just once."

"Then do it. You can fight for yourself now," Charles said. When he put his arms around her from behind, she grabbed his hands and held on. "Let me worry about everything else."

 

* * *

 

The silver candleholder missed Charles' head by an inch. To his credit, he didn't even flinch. Maybe someone at the royal court in Aniana had a bad temper too.

"Your Highness, if this is a bad time - " He sounded unshaken, even amused.

Erik couldn't help a - probably extremely unnerving - smile. "No. No, come in, I was just about to send for you."

Charles bowed deeply before picking his way through the mess that had previously been Erik's pristine audience room. "Thank you. May I ask what happened...?"

"Nothing," Erik bit out.

" - because you look like a man in mourning," Charles finished gently.

Mourning? Erik started to scoff; stopped. Was that it? After all these years of mourning the death of his parents, to finally know the real culprit - did he need that before he could properly acknowledge their passing?

"I - I think I might be."

He would swear it was the surprise that made him speak. Nothing to do with the way Charles was looking at him. 

Charles, who had frozen in place. "Should I go?"

"No. No, I need to tell someone. It might as well be you," Erik said heavily. He sat down on one of the few untouched couches.

"I'm honoured, Your Highness," Charles said, in deadly earnest as far as Erik could tell. "I will guard your secrets as if they were my own. May I sit?"

Up close, he looked even smaller, almost impossibly harmless, blue eyes lit with enough compassion to power the national grid. When Erik waved an arm at the space right beside him, he sat without protest.

Fuck propriety, anyway.

"The Countess of Seron just paid me a visit. She finally confirmed my suspicions about Shaw."

"About - oh. The late King and Queen?"

At least Charles did him the courtesy of not looking surprised.

"Yes. Do you still wish to join me in this venture?" Erik said mockingly.

"More than ever, Your Highness." For a moment, there was no trace of the courtier at all. Just a young man speaking with the weight of perfect honesty. Then he was gone, and Charles' smile returned. "There is one thing, though. You might want to be more discreet about our meetings."

Erik frowned. "My wing of the Palace is secure."

"No, it's not that." Charles' demure smile turned self-deprecating. He looked up at Erik through his dark lashes. "I have - a certain reputation. There will be rumours if you spend much more time with me."

The pale skin of his neck was just as soft as it looked, warm under Erik's fingers. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath as Erik stroked the short hair at his nape and cupped the back of his head.

"You're assuming I'd mind."

He hardly recognised his own voice.

"My apologies," Charles said softly, and pressed a kiss, feather-light, to the sharp edge of Erik's smile. It was perfectly chaste, and yet - 

The most dangerous kind of man was the kind who cut through one's defences with gentle kindness and without ever seeming to try. Erik had learned that lesson very early on.

_I should really know better by now._

He let go while he could still tell himself to do it.

Charles didn't look disappointed as he stood up and took the single step that would put him right in front of Erik. If anything, the smile that remained after he licked his lips was pleased and secretive, softened into something inviting by the wet gleam.

Without knowing quite what he'd meant to do, Erik found himself taking Charles' wrist and tugging not particularly gently until he was standing between Erik's legs.

Charles twisted his arm, testing Erik's grip, and went pliant and smiling when he found it to be firm. "I'm not a princess. You can be a little rougher than that."

His voice was calm, controlled, only the merest hint of a husky edge. Erik flexed his fingers, unable to tear his eyes away from the flush that started at Charles' hairline and disappeared into the collar of his dress shirt in response.

It took him a moment to process Charles' words. "If you're doing this for her - "

Charles' face changed like a set of shutters had been slammed down. "Does it matter? Be honest, have you ever done this without being aware of an agenda?"

Erik flinched and began to draw away. He would not - he could not - especially when Charles was right. "If that's what you think this is - "

"Wait. I'm sorry, ignore me, that was complete and utter rubbish," Charles said quietly. He grasped Erik's hand and kissed it; the tips of his fingers, the backs of his knuckles, the sensitive skin over the pulse-point at his wrist, letting his lips linger against the beat of Erik's heart. "Hazard of the job, one forgets how to be honest."

When he looked up, he was once again the person underneath the courtier.

"Are you? Honest with me, that is."

_Can I trust you?_

"I try my best, Your Highness."

That, at least, was honest. "Given our current circumstances, I think you can call me Erik."

And when Charles' face lit up, as if Erik had just offered him the keys to the kingdom, he could only surge up and press their lips together, because he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

 

*

 

Afterwards, when Erik's brain felt up to processing anything again, he looked up and saw Charles leaning against the metal headboard, sheets kicked aside and staring intently at him. There were angry red marks all over the long, elegant line of his neck, his collarbones, his freckled shoulders. Erik felt an uncomfortable combination of guilt and a vicious thrill at the sight. 

"You know, you're nothing like what I expected."

Erik snorted. "Should I be flattered?"

"Yes," Charles said, giving him that direct, burning look again, the honesty of it just as shocking as when he'd folded to his knees gracefully on the soft carpet. "I can see why you've survived this long."

"Someone once warned me I'd be dead within three years of reaching the age of majority. Two more to go," Erik grinned.

Charles didn't take the bait. His face remained drawn and utterly serious. "So you know. Shaw made this marriage for you, knowing it would buy him more time because of Her Highness' youth. He's been using every excuse in the book to keep you from the throne. The closer you get, the more danger you put yourself in."

All of this Erik knew, and half the court probably did too; and yet it was the first time someone else had dared say as much to him.

"You're very familiar with Genoshan politics."

Charles nodded. "My father spent some time at the court in Carrion Cove when I was a child."

 _Interesting._ Erik made a mental note to ask Angel if she could find out anything about the Essex family from her sources back home. 

"You must be acquainted with the Duchess, then?"

"I doubt she remembers me," Charles said wryly. "Or rather, I hope she doesn't." 

Erik sat up, drawn despite himself to the mischief that had chased away Charles' dark mood. "Trouble?"

Charles ducked his head, trying and failing to hide the colour flooding his cheeks. He sounded almost embarrassed. "Oh no, nothing of the sort. When I was six years old, I threw up on her best gown."

Erik threw his head back and laughed. Just when he'd come close to collecting himself, the combination of reluctant amusement and genuine chagrin on Charles' face set him off again.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed in bed.

"I owe you something nice just for that. What do you like?" he said finally, still chuckling.

Charles' voice was very small. "It was an accident. I was sick."

"Nevertheless. State your heart's desire. Anything within my power."

He'd expected to be asked for something then - courtiers did not gain influence by passing up opportunities - but Charles only smiled radiantly and stole a quick kiss, which turned into a few more, and by the time he pulled away they were both breathing heavily.

"Enough about me. Let's talk about Shaw."

"Here?"

Charles very pointedly rested his head in Erik's lap. "I don't feel like moving. Do you?"

Strangely enough, his usual urge to flee at moments like these - if only to avoid the awkwardness that was sure to come the next morning - was entirely absent. 

"All right. You know just as well as I do that we haven't got much time. What I need now is evidence to justify moving against him. Irene's word is not enough."

Charles bit his lip, frowning thoughtfully. "What if we catch him plotting against you? Would that be enough?"

"I'm sure he's been doing that for years. He won't slip up that easily."

Shaw had been the most powerful man in Genosha for a very long time. He had allies and spies everywhere. Sometimes Erik suspected that he was only still alive because Shaw's attempt to keep him isolated and friendless had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, and killing him was no longer worth the suspicions it would raise.

"No, I suppose that would be too easy," Charles said. In the fading light, his eyes were liquid, soft with the kind of indolence that spoke of a predator at rest. Another kind of honesty, just like the excess of compassion from earlier. "In that case, our first step is to let the enemy know exactly what you intend."

It took Erik a moment to untangle his meaning. "That's entrapment," he said slowly.

Charles shrugged. "It would be. Does that matter? All you need is evidence of Shaw's intentions. If I can provide that - "

"You would do that for me? A foreign prince, a mere stranger to you?" 

Erik sounded incredulous. Better that, he thought rather belatedly, than the strain of wonder underneath. That would have been too much, too fast.

"Believe me, Your Highness, I've done worse in return for less," Charles said, and when he smiled this time Erik knew this particular expression was for him alone. "You are far more than a mere stranger."

"I - "

 _Thank you_ seemed inadequate, and Charles didn't give him long to struggle for something better.

"You don't have to say anything. Just remember."

"I won't ever forget," Erik said, already determined that it would be true.

 

* * *

 

The official press release on Raven's arrival went out around noon, and Johanna was fielding interview requests by afternoon tea. Raven wouldn't have minded doing a few; she didn't want anyone forgetting what she was doing in Genosha. Without the marriage, she was just a foreign princess, powerless and friendless in her new home. The sooner she had some official status here, the better. 

Unfortunately Shaw seemed just as dedicated to minimizing the impact of the marriage as she was to maximizing it. Her attempt to grant an interview to Genosha's biggest news channel and best-selling broadsheet newspaper was firmly rebuffed. Apparently, any contact with news media had to be approved by the Regent. 

It wasn't difficult to work out what this was really all about. Angel hadn't said the words _Laws of Succession_ out loud, but she didn't have to. 

What Raven should be doing about all this was the more difficult question. 

All her life, she'd been asked what she wanted by those only too eager to go and fetch it for her, and it had never meant anything important. Not until Charles asked, and she somehow knew that he meant it differently to the rest.

_What do you want?_

She wanted to be free of her gilded cage. She wanted the freedom to make her own choices. Going back to Aniana, then, could not be an option. It would only be a step backwards. If she were to remain in Genosha, then she needed the status the engagement offered her. The question was, did she want to marry Erik immediately and help him win his throne, knowing the possible cost?

The door to the audience room swung open, admitting Johanna, who dropped into her usual careless curtsey. "Your Highness? His Highness the Prince is here to see you."

_His Highness has great timing._

Raven grinned. "Thank you, Johanna. Please make sure we're not disturbed. Good afternoon, Erik."

She didn't stand up, and he didn't ask to sit. Her governess would have been appalled, but the studied rudeness almost seemed like a little in-joke for the two of them by now, and she could tell by his quick grin that he agreed.

"Charles and I have been talking," Erik said hesitantly. "I have a great favour to ask of you."

 

*

 

After Erik left, Raven paced the room, turning the conversation over and over in her head, until Johanna finally snapped at her, "Your Highness, please, for the love of God, go for a walk or something."

Raven raised her eyebrows. "Am I bothering you?"

"No! Um. Well." Johanna looked down at her netbook. "Yes, Your Highness," she said, in a much smaller voice.

She must have been broadcasting stress like crazy if even Johanna could tell. "Fine. I'll be back in an hour. If anyone calls, you know what to do."

Johanna nodded sharply, attention already back on her work. Her sheer rudeness was almost comforting; allied to her honesty and competence, it seemed funny rather than grating. If they were heading into a crisis, she could probably be relied upon to keep a clear head - 

_Okay, no. Stop it._

What she needed right now was to remind herself of the world outside her rooms. More than that, she needed a holiday from the conspiracies and intrigue. If her feet wandered in the direction of Irene Adler's quarters, well, it was just a happy coincidence.

The directions Angel had given her led to a set of ornate wooden doors right next to the Imperial Gardens. Raven knocked cautiously, expecting a maid to answer.

Nothing. She tried the handle, fully expecting it to be locked, and almost stumbled as the door swung open with a loud creak. The curtains were fully drawn inside. She could just about make out a human shape in the dark.

"Madame? Can I come in?"

"Your Highness," Irene said warmly. "Please do. The light switch is on your right, if you'd prefer not to trip over the furniture."

Raven found the switch easily enough. Lit in soft white light, Irene's rooms seemed cold and empty, especially compared to the pastel monstrosity that Raven had been assigned. The woman on the wood-backed chair behind a small, round dining table was the only thing that stood out, dressed head to toe in blue. Her mask was off, shoulder-length brown hair set in loose curls around her face. 

"Surprised to see me?"

Irene smiled slowly, like she'd forgotten how and was just relearning the art. "I'm never surprised. But I am happy to see you. Please, sit."

She indicated the chair right next to hers. When Raven rested her arms on the table, her hands were a mere hair's breath from Irene's pale ones, laid out palm down. If she wanted, she could easily reach out and hold them.

Raven willed herself to focus. She was a princess, not a blushing teenager. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Charles in her head pointed out that she was in fact both. She ignored it with an effort.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for just turning up like this, but I really needed to talk to someone, and I. I - "

Where to even start?

Irene leaned forward. Now that she was looking, Raven could see that her eyes were unusual - the irises were the same colour as the pupils, and they focused on nothing in particular. Even so, she got the impression that Irene was scrutinising her. "What does Your Highness really want? That's the key to everything."

"Yes, that's it," Raven said wonderingly. "Is it always like this, talking to you? Like you're on fast-forward?" 

Irene inclined her head. On anyone else, it might have looked like self-deprecation. "Yes."

Raven grinned. "All right." 

"You don't mind," Irene said slowly. For the first time, she sounded uncertain.

"Do you want me to mind?"

Irene had dimples when she really smiled. They made her look younger, and they made Raven feel like she'd been let in on a secret. "I take it back. You may have surprised me after all."

"I'm glad to hear that," Raven said. "To answer your question...I want to be free to make my own choices. I want power to rule, not just to sit around and look pretty. I want to be happy."

She had spoken with no idea of what she was going to say, only that she needed to say something. It was strangely comforting to have the words out in the open, even if they spoke of impossibilities.

"To have freedom without power is almost impossible, Queen-to-be. Do you understand?" Irene said gravely.

Raven did. She had made her decision the moment her choices were made clear, and held the knowledge back from herself out of fear. Irene's words broke the spell.

"I know what I should do. I just need someone to tell me I can do it."

Irene reached out and laid her pale, delicate hand over Raven's. "I will always be here for that, Your Highness. Cake?"

"What?" Raven blurted, only slightly diverted from the feel of Irene's smooth, cool skin against her own.

Irene drew her hand back and smiled her real smile again. "Would you like some cake? I find it makes difficult decisions more bearable."

"Yes. Yes, please, I'd love some."

"Good," Irene said, as she opened a cardboard box and cut them both slices of cake with deft hands. "As my late, lamented father used to say, if you're preparing to stomp on someone's throat with your boot, better to do it with a sweet taste on the back of your tongue."

Raven laughed in a manner her governess would have described as indelicate. It felt great. "Did he really? That makes no sense whatsoever."

"But it made you laugh. You should laugh more," Irene said teasingly.

"It's funny - I thought the same thing about you."

Her voice had dropped to a whisper. She sounded confident, almost seductive - not so much the blushing teenager after all, but an adult who knew what she wanted. 

Irene actually ducked her head as if embarrassed. "Here you go. Blueberry cheesecake, I hope you don't mind."

"That sounds amazing, actually. Thank you, Madame." 

When their fingers brushed this time, she didn't pull away.

"It's Irene."

"Pardon?"

"My name. I know you know it. Go on."

"Irene," Raven said softly, as if under a spell. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"I have been afflicted with a similar problem, Your Highness. May we suffer gladly together," Irene replied, in her low, smoky voice. She reached out and traced the contours of Raven's face with the pads of her fingers; the corner of an eye, the delicate skin of an eyelid, the contours of her lips, slightly parted on a breath, coming to rest finally on her shoulders. Not restraining. Asking.

_Just this once, let me choose something meaningful. Sorry, father._

Raven closed the distance between them.

 

* * *

 

Getting a private audience with the Regent proved to be just as difficult as anticipated. As soon as Charles mentioned he was from Her Highness the Princess of Symkaria's household, the guards who were previously friendly and helpful became a brick wall of excuses.

Fortunately, Charles was very good at opening doors. "Are you sure the Regent isn't receiving visitors today?"

"Quite sure, sir," said the blank-faced young man in the Palace security uniform. Not Royal Guard - that was interesting, he'd have to remember that for later.

"What if I tell you that I'm sure he'll want to see me?"

"Meaning no disrespect, sir, but we hear that a lot."

Charles let himself grin. Conspiratorial, teasing, _you want to tell me all your secrets, go on_. "I'll bet. Well, you're busy, gentlemen, I won't take up much more of your time. How about this: if you take a message in for me, I'll go away. Promise."

He knew he'd won when the previously statuesque young man almost cracked a smile. He caught himself just in time, but it was too late.

"What if I get in trouble with His Grace?"

Charles shook his head. "You won't. In the unlikely even that you do, I'll buy you a drink or two. You name the place."

Now the guard did smile. "'Or two', I think. Deal. What's the message?"

Charles leaned closer and whispered it into his (rapidly reddening) ear.

"Uh - just that?"

Charles cast his eyes down and bit his lip against the smirk threatened to creep onto his face. "Please."

 

*

 

Sebastian Shaw's audience room was decorated with the kind of ostentatious luxury that positively invited scorn. Charles was tempted to assign him points for sheer shamelessness. Then again, a man brazen enough to murder the royal couple and pose as their son's benevolent guardian for fifteen years without even attempting to hide his own imperial ambitions clearly didn't give a damn what anyone thought about them.

"Mister Essex. I hope this is going to be worth my time."

Shaw sounded convincingly disinterested. Charles might have been fooled if he hadn't seen the way his eyes followed Charles around the room, sharp and avid. 

He sat on the arm of the enormous couch next to Shaw's armchair without being asked. "I'm here to make an offer."

"What could you possibly have to offer me?" Shaw said contemptuously.

Charles smiled. "How about a small army? Just to start with. Before that, though, you should know why you'd be in need of one."

That got Shaw's attention, just as he'd intended.

"Why's that? Go on, Essex. Impress me."

"I'll do my best," Charles said sweetly, with about as much false modesty as he could carry off. Which wasn't much, but he did try. "The Crown Prince and I have been spending some time together."

Shaw snorted. "So I've heard. You work fast."

The disdain colouring his words only made Charles smile wider. "Thank you. My point being: I presume you'd be interested in what his immediate plans are."

"You presume correctly. Well?"

Charles leaned forward. Lowered his voice. "The Crown Prince means to marry Princess Raven in secret and seize power by force."

Shaw barked a harsh laugh. "Ridiculous. He has nowhere near the support necessary for such an undertaking."

"You've known Erik Lehnsherr for his entire life, Your Grace. Do you find him to be a rational, patient man? Or have you discovered, as I have, that he has an unconquerable strain of rage lurking underneath that smooth surface?"

When Shaw went still, his eyes all hard calculation, Charles knew he'd won. The only challenge then was not letting triumph show on his face, especially when Shaw tilted his head, eyes narrowed and intent on him. 

"What do you stand to gain by coming to me?"

Charles bowed his head in a mockery of submission. "It's your turn to make me an offer, Your Grace."

Shaw chuckled. "I think you'll find my terms agreeable."

No doubt. And if the only real request Charles wished to make of this man was to stare into his eyes at the precise moment he realized the true architect of his downfall - 

Well. He was sure that it could be arranged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I know I said 4 parts. This is not going to be done in 4 parts. The next part will wrap up this section of the story, and I'm hoping to have the next storyline done in 2 parts. Hoping being the keyword here. *g* I need to get better at estimating length.


	5. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles accumulates favours. Raven bonds with Angel. Erik finds himself plagued by unwelcome suspicions, courtesy of Emma Frost.

When Erik was eighteen, he fell in love. 

Shaw had been in the habit of shuffling him around the country, making sure he never stayed anywhere long enough to develop attachments or for the people there to get attached to him. Ismara was the last such place, and one of the most miserable. The royal estate there had fallen into disrepair years ago, it rained constantly, and he was never allowed more than a skeleton staff, all of whom were probably on Shaw's payroll. 

The only good thing about Ismara was his physics tutor. Her name was Anya, and when she smiled it felt like the only genuine thing Erik had seen since his parents died. Then he met Magda.

"This is my daughter. She's studying at the university in town," Anya had said. "Magda, go on, greet His Highness properly."

Erik could hardly hear her over the sound of his heart thumping against his rib cage, caught like a deer in headlights by Magda's forthright gaze. 

"It's an honour, Your Highness."

She'd curtsied without ever looking down, and come up grinning with a spark of mischief that lit something dormant inside him. Erik caught her hand in his own and bought it to his lips. "I could say the same thing. Feel free to visit more often."

His smile took effort and felt ill-fitting on his own face. It was like exercising a muscle he'd let lapse into disuse, and it felt entirely inadequate in the face of the way Magda was beaming at him, but Erik had a feeling all that was going to change.

In the next few months, it did. Magda came almost every week, bringing tales of her life at university, the friends she'd made, whatever weird thing her lecturers had done, bad customers at her part-time job, and whatever new hobby held her attention. Her life wasn't easy, but when Erik compared it to his own it seemed much more meaningful and fulfilling.

When it was his turn to talk, he could only tell her of the places he'd visited on tour with his parents, and then of whatever he'd seen of Genosha since as a result of being moved around. His stories seemed dull in comparison, but Magda loved them. 

"I want to travel more than anything. Just never had the means, you know? When you talk about all these places, it just makes me want to go even more."

They were seated on the uneven patch of grass outside the manor on one of the few good days of the fading summer. The shadow of the Northern Alps loomed in the distance, a constant reminder of the relative state of isolation Ismara had existed in as recently as a hundred years ago.

Erik privately agreed that Ismara was far too small and provincial for a girl like Magda. "You should. Would you like to see Hammer Bay? I could take you. They're bound to transfer me back soon. I'm getting too old to hide away in the provinces."

"You're far from the first boy to promise to take me away from here," she laughed. Then, as if she'd just remembered who she was speaking to, she tagged on a late, teasing, "Your Highness."

"Maybe not. But I mean it," Erik said roughly.

Magda's blue eyes grew wide. "You really do."

"Of course."

"Oh, Erik. What am I going to do with you?" she said, helplessly fond, almost enough to overcome the ever-present bitter sadness that seemed to lurk behind her eyes when she looked at him in those days. Erik had begun to wonder what that look meant. 

When she kissed him, hard and intent, it ceased to matter. 

In the end, they only had a few days together. He never found out who had told Shaw he'd taken up with a commoner, an older woman no less, but it was clear someone had. Within a week, he'd been packed off to do his military service, without ever having fulfilled his promise to take her to Hammer Bay. 

Erik never saw Magda again.

 

*

 

He'd been careful with his personal liasons ever since. Shaw didn't seem to care as long as it was just sex and no bastards were produced as a result. Hell, he'd even taken to hand-picking men and women he thought Erik might like and subtly placing them in his path. Always blue eyed and mischievous, just like Magda, but without a shred of her fearless honesty.

After Erik figured out that particular scheme he couldn't stand to touch anyone for six months.

Now, there was Charles. Charles who fit his type so perfectly he'd initially suspected foul play of some sort; if not from Shaw, then perhaps from the Symkarian King. Charles who seemed soft at first glance, but who was merely letting everyone else imagine themselves his master.

No doubt Shaw already knew about them. No doubt he thought he knew what was really going on. Erik found himself looking forward to the inevitable reckoning.

It came faster than he'd expected. The day after Charles came to him - the day after they'd plotted Shaw's end together - the man himself asked to see Erik out of the blue. 

"I hear Your Highness has been spending a lot of time with this Charles Essex character."

The disdain with which Shaw pronounced the name should have amused him, and it did. What Erik didn't expect was the surge of irritation that accompanied it. Surely it was too soon for him to get defensive about a man he hardly knew.

"He's interesting," he said, striving for casual.

Shaw's lips twisted. "I'll bet. I'm only worried about Your Highness' wellbeing. Essex is a man with a history - a history that has taken in about half the Symkarian nobility, if the rumours are correct. Whores are a dime a dozen for men in our position, Your Highness. Most are less risky than this one."

He met Erik's eyes then and gave him the benevolent smile of a concerned father. With the passing of time, Erik had learned to grit his teeth less visibly in response to that expression, but it never got any easier to bear.

"Charles isn't like that," he said, slowly, venomously. "I won't have anyone slandering him."

On the ornate oak desk in front of him, the hideous gold fountain pen he used to sign documents rattled. The small part of him that wasn't preoccupied with rage was surprised at the intensity of his reaction. What should have been a glancing blow had instead struck home.

If Shaw's poorly-hidden smirk was any indication, he knew it too. "As you wish. I just don't want Your Highness to pay too high a price. You could get hurt."

Erik narrowed his eyes. "Your concern is unnecessary."

"Then I take my leave."

He bowed deeply and swept out of the room as if he owned the place.

Erik took a deep breath and savoured the silence, broken only by the sound of polite applause.

"Brilliant. You were brilliant," Charles said as he stepped out from behind the screen separating the audience room from Erik's private chambers. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes blazing and Erik drew him close and kissed him hard before he could go on.

"Thank you, I'm sure."

Charles beamed. "Absolutely marvellous. I didn't expect Shaw to test you about me - although I really should have, apologies - and you passed with flying colours. You're cannier than I expected."

"I wasn't acting," Erik said roughly.

Charles' eyes widened; he was looking at Erik as if he were a miraculous creature. "You - " He shook his head. "When did you decide to trust me?"

_I'm not sure there was a decision involved._

"When you offered to leave me alone yesterday, even though you wanted nothing of the sort," Erik said, all smooth self-assurance, as if the ground under his feet didn't feel like quicksand.

There was something genuinely shy, then, about Charles' smile. It made him seem years younger. "My dear Erik. I'm going to make you King, and you're going to be brilliant at it."

Erik suppressed a shiver. "You don't know that." When had his defences been breached so thoroughly?

Charles looked at him like he could read all Erik's fears and doubts like an open book and brush them away just as easily. "Yes, I do." 

He held out his hand, only a little unsteadily, and Erik took it, letting himself be tugged toward his enormous four-poster.

(He'll recall this moment, later.)

 

*

 

After, Charles curled up against Erik with a contented sigh and showed every sign of going to sleep. He was comfortable, and he smelled good, and it took Erik far too long to remember why allowing himself to relax for ten minutes, maybe half an hour, was such a bad idea.

By the time he worked out a more-or-less polite way of getting them both out of bed, Charles was carefully disentangling himself, getting up onto his knees and reaching for his neatly folded shirt.

"Much as I'd love to stay in bed all day, I've got a few errands to run."

"Of course. Will you - " Erik hesitated. "Will you be free this evening? There are some people you need to meet."

Charles smiled at him through his lashes. "I am entirely at Your Highness' disposal this evening."

Something about the way he'd phrased that sentence struck Erik as odd. It took him a moment to realize why. Shaw's intentions may have been harmful, but he had reminded Erik that there were certain protocol to be followed in circumstances such as theirs.

"Charles, I understand it's...customary...to offer incentives to a man in your position. A promotion, gifts, land, something of the kind. Would you accept a Genoshan title? It's politically awkward, I realize, but if you would, then consider it offered. Take your pick of the non-allocated holdings near Hammer Bay. I can do that much, at least."

Charles watched him with half-lidded eyes while he stumbled through his declaration of affection. Then he laughed, quiet and wicked. "Darling, you are so bad at that. I've had closeted Earls ask me to be their bit on the side with more grace. You're a King, or you will be soon enough. You could have your pick of young men and women and keep them however you like."

"I don't want that. I never have," Erik said quietly.

Charles' face softened. "Erik, please. You don't have to offer me anything. I'm not your mistress; nor do I want to be."

Perhaps it would have been easier if that had been the case. At least then Erik would have known what was expected of him.

"Then what do you want?"

For just the briefest moment, the curve of that clever mouth was plainly unhappy; troubled, at the very least. Then Charles leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. He spoke into the few inches of air between their lips, quiet and unwavering. His broad hand felt like a hot brand against Erik's neck.

"Let me be very clear: I offered my assistance to you because I honour your cause and want to further it. But my position is precarious, both here and at home. One day - probably soon - I'll need your help too."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Erik said, feeling like a great fog had lifted. He didn't even try to fight the swell of affection in his chest. "My dear Charles. If this works, I owe you more than I can ever say. Anything you need, you only have to ask."

"In that case, I accept. We have a bargain."

Charles gave him a quick kiss to seal the deal.

"This is what you do, isn't it? Accumulate favours. To what end?"

He'd assumed that it had something to do with advancing Symkarian interests at first; something for Raven, perhaps, given the way he'd reacted when questioned about her. Increasingly, though, it seemed to be something far more complicated than that.

Charles put his finger to Erik's lips. "You'll see. Just remember."

 

* * *

 

Even in the first blush of what she could only call a terrible infatuation, Raven knew better than to spend the evening in Irene's rooms. Fortunately, Johanna had the experience and know-how she lacked in looking presentable when sneaking back to her own rooms at a frankly absurd hour.

None of which prevented Charles from taking one look at her and smirking when he came in to make his greetings before noon.

"I assume the date went well, Your Highness?"

"Shut up. If you must know, yes. It was lovely," she said, with all the haughty dignity she could muster. Which was rather a lot, even when she was blushing.

Charles bowed his head. "I'm glad to hear that. Did His Highness say that Angel was going to visit today?"

"Yes, to work out details of the wedding. I don't see why we need to make a fuss - it's the fact of marriage that's important, right?"

_"I know what I'm asking. Be assured that I don't...expect anything from you. Afterwards."_

_The reticence was unexpected from a man who was usually direct to the point of brusqueness. It was oddly touching, and Raven felt her apprehension melt away._

_She smiled up at him. "Good. I'll hold you to it."_

"Ceremony's always important to the nobility," Charles said patiently, with the air of one who had already had this conversation far too many times. "We have to make enough of a fuss for Shaw to believe that it happened. Plus, it's your wedding."

Raven snorted. "To a man I barely know and don't love."

"Such is the lot of the nobility," said Charles, not without a note of sympathy.

She'd grown up around enough nobles to know that was true. Marriage was for status, money, procreation; if one wanted love, there was always the possibility of an affair. Even her father, cold as he was, had his share of mistresses; frail, beautiful, quiet young women who always looked at Raven with fear in their eyes. It wasn't until she was allowed to spend more time at the Royal Court that she understood why.

A thought suddently occurred to her. "Did your parents marry for love?"

From what he'd told her, Charles' father had been from noble stock, once upon a time, but the Essex family had lost its title and holdings long ago. Nathaniel Essex was effectively born a commoner, albeit one who had procured a position at Court, and that opened up a few more options. He could have had a marriage arranged for him by either his parents or by Royal Decree, or married for love without too much scandal.

"I hope not," Charles muttered darkly.

"Excuse me?"

It took Charles a moment to produce a smile, and even then it looked perfectly false. "My mother left the world a long time ago."

Raven realized with a pang that he'd never mentioned his mother to her before.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You couldn't have known," Charles said easily. He crouched down in front of her, took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "She's the least of my worries right now. My princess is all grown up. I feel ancient."

She'd thought herself beyond embarrassment where his antics were concerned. Not by a long shot, as it turned out. "God, you're awful," she said, laughing and snatching her hand back. "Don't worry, I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding a nice Duchess or Council member willing to spoil you silly for life. All the waistcoats and books you could ever want."

Charles wore his most demure expression. It should have been comically ill-fitting, but he pulled it off - just. "Your confidence in my ability is touching."

"I'm not wrong," Raven pointed out.

"Well, no. But if that was what I wanted, I would have stayed home in Aniana."

Now that demure face was cracking down the middle. He never could keep it up for long, she thought fondly. 

"That's right, you'd be bored to death as a trophy husband. Fortunately for me. Now, what's the plan?"

 

*

 

Two hours later, Raven found himself participating in the weirdest dress fitting she'd ever experienced. More than ever, she was thankful for Angel's brisk practicality. Sometimes, it seemed like the only thing that could break through the surreal tinge her entire life had taken on. 

(Which was really saying something for a princess with supernatural powers from one of the few absolute monarchies left in the world.)

Raven frowned critically at herself in the mirror. The dress she was wearing was perfect - bold, form-fitting, not horrendously uncomfortable. There was only one problem. 

"I can wear red?"

Angel nodded. "It's the traditional colour for weddings in Genosha. If Your Highness doesn't like it, we can try something else."

"No, no, don't make a fuss," Raven said quickly. "I like red."

Best to go with Genoshan tradition, just to be safe. Besides, it was true. Red was one of her favourite colours.

She could see Angel grin and nod approvingly in the giant, floor-length mirror. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you." Raven hesitated. _Go on. Just ask. You know you have to._ She turned to face Angel. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Angel said. She didn't look surprised. If anything, she looked expectant. Which was about right, really. Raven had been wanting to know since the beginning.

"How did you end up here, doing this?"

Angel's practised smile twisted into something more bittersweet. "I know what people think of me. Either I'm sleeping with His Highness or I'm sleeping with the Regent. Or maybe even both. How else did I get to be in charge of the Prince's household, right? Most nobles can't even manage that for their sons and daughters, nevermind a commoner."

"That's not what I meant," Raven said quickly.

"But you've wondered. Everyone does," Angel shrugged. "I've stopped caring about that. Truth is, my mother was assigned to serve the Crown Prince when I was little, so I was bought up in the Palace. I know everything that goes on here, inside and out. His Highness keeps me close because he's incapable of trusting anyone, and I'm too valuable to piss off entirely."

Angel's shoulders were set defiantly, and her smile was hard-edged. For a moment Raven was reminded of her meeting with Erik the day before. 

_Once again the Crown Prince's sparkling social graces come through for us._

They were really very similar people.

With that in mind, Raven smiled back. A real smile, sharp and entirely befitting a heir of the House of Marko, not one of those polished fakes. "Well, that's encouraging. What about Shaw?"

"Can I be honest? He's always taken the loyalty of the subjects of Terrigen for granted," Angel said disdainfully. "We're beholden to Her Grace the Duchess, not him. No matter what he thinks, I've never been in his employ and never will be."

To her own surprise, Raven believed every word she said. Something about the raw anger in Angel's voice as she spoke of Shaw clinched it. 

"You know, Erik might not trust you, but I do. When the time comes - "

Angel sketched a neat curtsey. "When the time comes, I'll repay that trust."

 

* * *

 

The guard at the door ushered Charles inside just as Erik was pulling his coat on. Hammer Bay's climate meant that evenings often felt like a different season entirely to the rest of the day, and they'd be going near the docks, where the wind would be strong. 

Erik frowned critically at Charles' usual outfit of waistcoat, dress shirt and suit trousers.

"Go put a coat on. You'll get sick going out like this."

The words came out snappish, commanding, somehow drained of the concern he felt. Erik had to suppress a wince at the way they hung in the air. 

But then Charles smiled, pleased and soft. "Thank you." 

"What for?" Erik said, caught off-balance yet again.

"Worrying about me. There's no need, though. I came prepared." He held up an unmarked bag. Erik instinctively reached out to feel for metal in the contents. There was almost none, save for a flat, angular shape - a pin, it turned out, on the navy peacoat Charles was taking out. "No need for the entire Palace to know that I was leaving the premises at night."

Erik narrowed his eyes. "How did you know we'd be leaving the Palace?"

"I don't think there's anyone you trust in here. Or else why would you have risked asking an outsider for help?"

"If you lived in more superstitious times, they'd have burned you as a witch," Erik said sharply. Charles held his gaze as easily as he ever did, his mild expression never wavering, and after a moment it was Erik who shook his head with a rueful chuckle. "Yes, you're right."

Charles bowed his head gracefully. When he spoke, though, it was with no deference at all. "Of course I am. Why don't you wear your crown?"

It wasn't the first time he'd been asked that question; not even close. But it had never been with that strange blend of courtesy and casual insolence. Charles looked at him like he wanted to know for no reason other than simple curiosity, and that alone deserved a real answer.

"I will when I've earned it."

The royal jewels of Genosha had been locked away upon the assassination of Erik's parents. He'd been too young, then, for the silver crown of the heir to the throne. When he turned eighteen, Shaw had it taken out of storage and offered to him. 

Erik had refused to put it on.

"That's..."

"Stubborn? Impractical?" Erik said sardonically.

Charles shook his head. "No, Your Highness. I think it's admirable."

The colour of his coat made his eyes look even brighter, rings of electric blue almost swallowed up by dilating pupils when Erik took a step closer and stroked the sharp line of his jaw.

They both took a step back at the same moment. 

Erik took a deep breath. "Let's go."

 

*

 

The ride out to the base at Dominion Bay took place in a strangely comfortable silence. Charles gazed out at the bright lights of Hammer Bay, only turning back with a raised eyebrow when he caught Erik staring at him.

"So, who am I meeting this fine evening?"

"I'm taking you to the training base of the Royal Guard. They're the only people I trust in this entire city."

"Why's that?"

Erik allowed himself a smirk. "I hand-picked them. One of the few real powers Shaw allowed me, in the hope that I'd be content playing with toy soldiers and forget about the greater prize."

"That's right, the Guard is supposed to be largely ceremonial, isn't it," Charles said slowly. He grinned, delighted as a child on Christmas morning. "Wonderful sleight of hand, Your Highness, if I may say so."

There was a strange warm feeling in his chest. It wasn't the compliment - he was used to those. Slowly, he recognised it as the simple pleasure of collaboration with a trusted partner who share his purpose.

"Thank you."

 

*

 

"This is Captain Scott Summers. Captain, Charles Essex of the Symkarian delegation."

Scott Summers was every inch the perfect military man, so much so that Erik would have suspected him of being grown from a vat but for a well-hidden streak of recklessness. They'd met in Erik's last year of military service, when Scott had been the brightest, most promising rookie recruit the Officer Academy had seen in many years. He'd graduated in record time - just as well, too, since by then Erik had needed someone who looked like a lightweight, nepotistic appointment and was in reality anything but for the head of the Royal Guard.

For example, he was canny enough to be wary of Charles right away, and covered it well enough to fool anyone but an old comrade. "The marriage delegation, Your Highness?"

"Exactly. Lovely to meet you at last, Captain." Charles' smile was as bright as he'd ever seen it, and he offered a hand to shake, which Erik hadn't ever seen him do with anyone at Court. "From Terrigen, yes? Your older brother Alex has told me quite a bit about you."

Scott's eyes widened. It took him a moment to recover and take Charles' hand with a - slightly strained, if Erik was any judge - smile of his own. "All good things, I hope. He spoke highly of you, Master Essex."

"Just Charles is fine. I can't tell you how pleased I am to hear that," Charles said warmly. Then he tipped his head to the side, and suddenly became all cool regard, nothing personal in it at all. "Now, to business. Most of you aren't allowed in the Palace proper, is that right?"

Scott nodded grimly. "Shaw made sure of that."

"So the question becomes: how do we smuggle them in? And how can we keep them hidden?" 

Erik smirked. This was going to go over well, he could just tell. "You've convinced Shaw that Raven's not worth paying attention to. As a result, her rooms have been left undisturbed so far, and her staff are all Symkarians. I was hoping she wouldn't mind hosting the Guard for a day. I can take care of the rest."

"Hm. As the self-appointed guardian of her virtue, I feel as though I should disapprove."

"And yet?" Erik prompted smugly.

Charles inclined his head. "...and yet I can see no other way. Captain, you will tell your men to behave themselves appropriately."

Scott bore up well under Charles' penetrating gaze. "Yes, sir."

"Well, then. Your Highness."

Erik nodded. "Round up everyone who's not on duty. I have something to say to them."

 

*

 

Erik had been holding the words back for years, feeling their weight on his shoulders, waiting for the moment when he'd finally be able to say them out loud.

"I came out here to see you because you're the only people I trust. All of you served with me, and none of you cared who I was. In a few days time I'm going to ask you to risk your lives for me, not as your next King, but as a fellow soldier, just like the old days. What do you say?"

It was a tremendous relief to finally give voice to his hopes, and find acceptance and faith on the faces of his men in response.

"We're ready, sir."

"Thank you."

 

*

 

Once the Guards left, Charles appeared at his side as if he'd materialized from thin air. "That was very effective. My blood was certainly warmed."

The teasing lilt of his voice all but demanded a scathing response, which Erik would have been happy to provide if Scott hadn't been hovering conspicuously, his face tight with anxiety. 

"Your Highness? May I speak to you alone?"

Charles smiled knowingly and gave one of his not-all-at-deferential bows. "I'll go wait in the car. It was nice to meet you, Captain."

"Uh, sorry about that," Scott said sheepishly, still frowning at Charles' retreating back.

It was equal parts disquieting and amusing to see that level of discomfort in a man known for unwavering calm and professionalism in any situation, no matter how dire.

"What is it?"

Scott leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Be careful. The Essex family are very close to the House of Frost. You sure you can trust him?"

Erik hesitated. "Yes. For now. Thanks for letting me know."

They were too far along for doubt. What was equally true and twice as hard to admit, even to himself, was that his trust for Charles went beyond the rational.

Scott nodded sharply. "No problem. What are your plans for afterwards? Simply having Shaw in your power won't solve anything."

"We'll have to act fast. Announce my marriage and the end of the regency, and - " Erik gave Scott a smile that was all teeth. "We'll get a full confession, one way or another."

 

*

 

When they arrived back in the Palace, it was to the disconcerting sight of Raven's lady-in-waiting - J-something, Johanna? - hovering outside Erik's quarters.

She looked up at their approach and dropped into a quick curtsey, a practiced smile replacing the harried look that had looked much more at home on her face.

"What's wrong?" Erik said tersely. Any deviation from the plan was the last thing they needed.

"Nothing, Your Highness. I'm just here for Essex. With your permission?" She put a strange emphasis on the last two words. 

Erik raised his eyebrows. "Yes, of course."

The formalities completed, Johanna turned to Charles, her entire bearing instantly becoming more casual. "Her Grace the Duchess of Terrigen wants you."

Charles froze. Just for a second, but long enough for Erik to notice and wonder.

"Not literally, I hope," he said dryly.

A peal of laughter came from the other end of the hallway. "Why, Your Highness, do you object?" 

Reflexively, Erik stood up straighter. That cool voice always made his skin crawl, and had ever since the first time he'd heard it. She probably knew it, too, which just made it worse.

Whatever else one could say about Emma Frost, Duchess of Terrigen - and there were no end of nobles willing to slander her non-existent good name - she knew how to make an entrance. As she swept toward them, dressed head to toe in blinding white and enough diamonds to bankrupt a few provinces, Erik couldn't help but think of one of Angel's casual asides, that Emma carried herself as if there was nothing else worthy of attention while she was around. 

She stopped just far enough from Erik to prevent him from looming over her and gave him her most infuriatingly patronizing smile.

"Don't bristle so, dear, I was only teasing. You should have seen this one when he was fifteen. Half the Court at Carrion Cove mooning over him."

"Your Grace," Charles said quietly, with the air of the long-suffering. "You exaggerate."

Emma took a step closer and tilted Charles' chin up with one long, elegant finger, her cool blue gaze sweeping him from head to toe. "Not at all. You look well, Charles."

To Erik's astonishment, Charles was actually blushing. "You look better."

Emma rapped her fingers against his cheek. "Flatterer. Shall we?" She gave something that might loosely be termed a curtsey if one were very charitable and began to stride away.

"Excuse us. Until later, Your Highness."

Charles bowed deeply, not meeting Erik's eyes once, and hurried to follow.

Johanna waited until they were out of sight. "I have goosebumps. And not in the fun way." She didn't seem to realize she'd spoken out loud until Erik laughed. "Uh. I mean. Sorry, Your Highness. Please pretend I didn't say anything."

"No, I agree with you," Erik said thoughtfully. He took out his phone to text Angel.

_Come when you have a moment. Need to ask a favour._

 

* * *

 

"Was that really necessary?"

Charles hadn't whined like that for years, but given the circumstances he felt entitled to complain. Just a bit.

"Yes. Because it entertained me," Emma said, from her perch on her favourite armchair. "Now, out with it. What did you want me here for?"

Charles drew in a deep breath. "I need your help."

Emma stared at him for a long moment. He knew better than to look away, even when her gaze turned pitying, reminding him of a number of deeply unpleasant things he wasn't allowed to think about right now. "Oh, my dear. Does the princeling know your secret?"

"Of course not," Charles said, forcing himself to keep it casual and dismissive. If he had his way, no one would know until he was sure of their reaction, and he was a long way from being sure. "I need a straight answer. Will you support Erik?"

Emma's dazzling smile didn't touch her eyes. "He's 'Erik' now, is he? Fast, even for you." 

Sometimes, Charles had no idea what could have possessed Emma to marry Sebastian Shaw. Then she'd do or say something to remind him that they had a little too much in common. Like now.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Charles said coolly. He let his voice go flat and scornful. "Do you object? Have you become protective of him, after all these years?"

Whatever response he'd expected - and he'd planned for a pretty big range - he couldn't have foreseen the way her face softened. "No, I'm worried about you. Charles, honey, do you know what you're doing?"

Charles managed a dry laugh at that. "I'm reasonably sure. It's a little late to waver."

"You've always been alarmingly prone to sentiment," Emma said. Beneath her customary disdain he heard something that could have been affection. It was enough to make him bold.

"Sentiment isn't necessarily weakness. Take this how you will, but - you were the one who taught me that. Because of you I know to never apologize for caring, or for what it leads me to do." Charles closed his eyes. "Please. Give me what I ask."

He didn't dare open them until she spoke again.

"Yes, I believe I will," Emma said thoughtfully. "Your hypothesis is intriguing. Prove it to me."

"Even if - even if Shaw dies in the process?"

Emma shrugged elegantly. "Then I'll find myself a more suitable man. Someone more willing to further the interests of the House of Frost, at least ten years younger and fifty percent better looking."

She meant it, too. _There's the Emma Frost I know._

"Like that young man heading up His Highness' Royal Guard, perhaps? Scott Summers, I think his name was. Very nice. Does he know he's going to be reassigned to Carrion Cove?"

"Be careful, Charles. You're treading on thin ice," Emma said. Her smile had vanished to be replaced by what Charles thought of as her real face, implacable and chilling.

It never failed to make him grin. "I know. But isn't life more exciting this way?"

Emma shook her head. "Your smugness is unbearable. And yet, I think I still like you more than anyone else at court."

"That strapping young man excepted."

He could never quite resist poking the metaphorical hornet's nest.

"If you go near him, sugar, I will have you drawn and quartered," Emma said sweetly.

He didn't doubt that she'd do it, too.

"I believe Genosha abolished that particular method of execution a hundred years ago."

"Nevertheless. Are we clear?"

Charles sketched a perfect bow. "As crystal, mother dearest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magda's back story is taken partially from her comicsverse background.
> 
> It's probably plain by now that I'm rubbish at estimating length. However, I promise to have the Genoshan story arc wrapped up in the next part, which will not take me quite as long to write as this one did. Thank you as always for reading.


	6. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events come to a head in Hammer Bay with Erik's attempt to topple Sebastian Shaw.

The most unsettling aspect of the entire day might have been the look of undisguised worry Angel gave Erik after he told her what had happened with Emma Frost.

"Could you...look into it for me?"

"Nathaniel Essex - Charles' father - has a pretty sketchy reputation, but people don't talk about Charles like that. The only gossip I've ever heard - " She bit her lip, clearly hesitant.

"What?"

"It's probably not relevant."

If it was salacious enough to make Angel hesitate - 

"Tell me anyway." 

"At Carrion Cove, they used to say Charles was a bastard," Angel said, hushed and too quick, as if she didn't want the words to hang in the air. "Essex slept with some Genoshan maid, and that's why Charles didn't pop up until Essex came back to Terrigen, about - maybe twenty years ago, I'm not sure of the exact date."

Was that why Charles tried to minimize his Genoshan background? It made sense, and it made his lie essentially harmless. Erik found himself a little too eager to believe it.

"If that's what it is, make sure it doesn't spread any further. I'm not out to ruin his standing."

Angel nodded. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"Thank you," Erik said quietly. "I know I haven't always acted like it, but I do appreciate the help."

Angel looked surprised, then gratified, her lips curving into a teasing grin. "Yeah, I know. One more thing: Her Highness the Princess asked me to convey an invitation to take lunch with her tomorrow. I got the impression she wanted to talk about what happens next. Will you be attending?"

What happens next - that was the question of the hour. No matter what complications arise, they had all committed to the plan. There was no going back now.

The thought made him grin. "Yes, I believe I will. Make the arrangements. We're not to be disturbed."

"Naturally."

 

*

 

It turned out that Raven's entourage included a chef who could make all her favourite Symkarian dishes. (And avoid any attempts by disgruntled Genoshans to poison her food, naturally, although that part went unsaid.) To anyone used to the spice-infused food of Genosha, it was painfully bland fare.

Erik reached for the seasoning while Raven wasn't looking and found Charles surreptitiously doing the same thing.

 _Later_ , he mouthed in response to Erik's raised eyebrows, and went back to cutting his food into small, neat pieces.

"So, what do we know about Shaw's powers?"

"Quite a lot," Erik said. If he sounded smug, well. He'd earned it. "I stole his file from the Royal Archives and copied it."

Raven looked reluctantly impressed. "How did he not notice?"

Erik suspected his smile was a little twisted. "I was very young at the time."

"Marvellous," Charles said, leaning forward with both elbows on the table's edge. He'd evidently given up on eating in favour of plotting. "Kinetic energy, yes?"

"Exactly. When he manifested, his power was the strongest recorded in Genosha for hundreds of years."

Charles nodded. "Strength being relative in this case."

Once upon a time, it would have enraged Erik to hear anyone dismiss royal powers like that. The sting had lessened when he was finally allowed to read some of the Royal Archives on the topic and learned just how pathetic what remained of their powers was compared to what had once been. It was strong enough to remain tangible proof of their hereditary right to rule, and that was all.

"The power to move mountains passed beyond us a long time ago," he finally said, reluctantly. "Is it not the same in Symkaria?"

Raven glanced sharply at Charles, who just smiled wider, before nodding. "It is. Our powers are not what they were."

"Unfortunately for us, Shaw's is still going to cause problems. I've seen him absorb shots from a sniper rifle."

Years ago, after Shaw survived an assassination attempt by doing just that, Erik had marveled at how well suited Shaw's power was to a political leader. Without it, someone would probably have stuck a knife in his back years ago.

"That's very interesting," Charles said in a tone of voice Erik had never heard before.

Judging by Raven's wrinkled nose, she had. "Please, please don't tell me you slept with Sebastian Shaw."

Even the idea was enough to send a white-hot flash of rage through Erik, rattling the silverware before he could claw back control over his own abilities. If Charles and Raven noticed the lapse, they had the courtesy not to comment.

"I do have some limits," Charles said airily. "But there is a lot of truth to that expression about flies, honey and vinegar. For example, would it not be easier to arrest Shaw if we incapacitated him first?"

"Poison," Raven said immediately, which was both impressive and concerning.

Charles beamed at her. "I meant sedatives, but yes, I'm glad you grasp my meaning. Your Highness, are there any doctors you trust around here?"

"Not anymore," Erik said grimly. "Shaw had the last remotely reliable one sent away a few months ago."

"We're going to need Hank's cooperation, then."

Raven's smile was appealingly sly. "Somehow, I think I can manage that." 

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Charles said, returning her conspiratorial look. "I am sorry that we're rushing your wedding. Just think of the grander coronation to come."

"Not exactly a world-ending sacrifice, is it? I'll live."

"Don't say that. Instead, say 'Your Highness owes me big for this one'."

Erik laughed. "Thankfully, the rest of the world doesn't see relationships the way you do."

"God, we'd all be doomed," Raven said with a shudder.

Charles made a pathetic attempt at looking wounded. "Making fun of me together already? Conspiracy really does bring a couple closer."

"You don't say," Raven said dryly. "Should we get the ceremony over and done with?"

"So romantic. I think I might swoon," Charles said. He was already pretending to duck when Raven mimed throwing her spoon at him. The two of them really did behave more like friends than superior and subordinate, when they dropped their guards. "Your Highness, do yo have anyone in mind to officiate? Someone who you know to be in Shaw's employ. I need whoever it is to confirm what I tell him at the end of the day."

Erik could think of just the man.

"Sadly, that leaves me with quite a lot of choice. Would the man who officiated for my parents do?"

Charles clapped his hands. "Perfect. Shall we try for this evening, then?"

"Give me a moment to contact Angel."

Erik gave some thought to what would sound most convincing when relayed to Shaw's ears. He was almost entirely certain that Angel wasn't leaking information behind his back, but the Lord Chancellor would be a different matter. Which was rather one of the main points of this entire exercise. 

"Find Donald Pierce. Tell him it's a matter of the utmost importance and ask for discretion."

 

* * *

 

Erik ducked out to talk to his treacherous official of choice, sending Angel by a few hours later with the news that everything was set for that evening.

Raven was going to get married in a few hours in possibly the world's shortest, smallest royal wedding, in order to lure her husband's mortal enemy into a trap and make sure she actually got to be queen. Which was possibly the most surreal part. If this worked, she'd be Queen of Genosha, with her husband the King deeply indebted to her for her cooperation and willing to gift her more freedom than she'd ever had back home. If it didn't - 

If it didn't, she probably wouldn't have long to worry about the consequences.

"Charles?"

She found him staring out the large, gilded windows, head tilted to the side as if he was listening to something only he could hear. When he turned to face her, though, he looked as fully present as he ever did.

"Yes, dear?"

"Where's Johanna? I'm going to need help to get into this dress."

Charles' lips quirked at the corners. "I'll go find her."

It felt oddly like he was the one giving her away. Which was absurd, really. He was just a clever commoner, one step above a servant. Except - except that wasn't quite true. It had never been true between them, could never be true with all that he knew about her, everything he'd done in her name.

Charles was more of a brother to her than Cain had ever been.

"Do you - "

"Yes, Your Highness?"

He'd looked at her like that, with those ridiculous blue eyes so clear she felt like she could see straight into his soul, the very first time they'd been alone together. That was when she decided he was someone worthy of trust. Someone who would be on her side, no matter what.

"Do you want to help me get ready after we sort out the dress?"

Charles' playful smile faded. He seemed honestly touched. "I'd be delighted."

 

*

 

Two hours later, they were both staring at the best hair and make-up job Raven's maids could do on short notice in the floor length mirror attached to the wall in her walk-in closet. 

Charles grinned at her reflection. His hands were very warm on her shoulders where they touched skin. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"You're a dirty liar," Raven said, rolling her eyes. "Do you know how many times I've heard that back home? It doesn't mean anything."

"Well, no. But I do mean it today. Red suits you."

Red and bold and figure-hugging and not at all demure. "Yes, I think so. You know, I could have saved everyone two hours of work by using my power."

"I'd rather you didn't exert yourself holding the change in place. Remember, we're going to need that ace up our sleeve for later," Charles said, absent-mindedly straightening her gold circlet. "Did you send word to the Countess?" 

Trust him to remember. Raven smiled. "No need. She'll be there."

 

* * *

 

The ceremony was - quick. Donald Pierce, the ancient, decrepit Lord Chancellor, was his usual efficient self, aside from an uncharacteristic case of the nerves. He stumbled twice during the vows, almost dropped the rings when Angel handed him the box, and kept sneaking quick looks at the back of the Northern Hall of Harmony, where Irene Adler stood, serene and inscrutable with her gold mask on and her hood up. 

Erik knew better than to comment on Raven's choice of guest, per their earlier agreement. In any case, with Charles right there, it would have been hypocritical in the extreme.

"You may kiss the bride," Pierce said, with yet another glance at the back of the room, where Charles and Johanna had joined Irene. This time, Erik followed his gaze, and felt his eyes widen when Charles crossed his hands over his chest.

In very old fashioned Genoshan circles - the kind one might learn about if one grew up under the tender loving care of a Genoshan aristocrat enchanted by courtly ceremony - that gesture meant _go with my blessing_. If Pierce hadn't been watching, Erik might have signed back with one arm across his chest, fist closed, for _fond gratitude_.

Raven raised an eyebrow when they caught each other pretending they hadn't just been staring at different people at almost the same moment, and Erik had to bite back a laugh. He was as much hers as she was his, which was not very much at all, and that was perfect. She was glorious in red, as if the colour evoked something of the person she was growing into behind the facade of the dutiful princess - the kind of person who would fit the crown of a Queen. 

Erik had - somehow - gotten very lucky with the marriage agreement signed before he hit puberty by Shaw on his behalf as an act of sabotage. 

He could feel the curve of her smirk against his lips when they finally kissed.

 

* * *

 

Raven couldn't stop staring at the platinum monstrosity that marked out the King or Queen Consort of Genosha. Unlike the simple gold engagement band she'd worn and forgot about for years, it sat uneasily on her finger.

The alternative to looking at that gaudy, black diamond-studded thing was to look up at her new husband, which was - well, it was more aesthetically pleasing, at least.

"You look lovely," Erik said quietly. His face was grave, as it had been ever since the Lord Chancellor shuffled out, the set of his wizened features so shifty that Raven had to fight an incredulous giggle. 

Just thinking about it now almost set her off again - and she was supposed to say something, wasn't she? Raven squared her shoulders. This was no time to get distracted, no matter how surreal the whole ridiculous scheme was.

She smiled up at Erik, putting as much honesty into it as she dared. "Thanks. So do you."

It was no idle flattery - Erik looked very handsome in formalwear, but there was something about the navy Special Forces officer's uniform in particular that highlighted his lean figure and sharp, elegant features, softening into a guarded smile even as she watched.

He nodded sharply and produced a small, flat jewellery case from seemingly nowhere, pressing it into her hands without another word. 

She eyed it with some trepidation. If this was anything like the wedding ring - 

"Go on. Open it," Erik said. He sounded oddly nervous, and it suddenly occurred to Raven that this severe, withdrawn man with the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders was not much older than she was. She remembered one of Charles' passing comments with dawning understandinng. He'd called Erik young with a wondering look on his face.

He'd also said Raven was cannier. More suited to intrigue. 

She opened the case, and couldn't help a soft gasp.

It was a bracelet made of what looked like the same metal as the ring. Thankfully, other than that the two had nothing in common. Raven had seen (and been gifted with) her share of well-made jewellery. None of it matched up to the intricacy of the intertwined circles that made up the bracelet, so fine they could not possibly have been made by anything other than a power that overrode the need for human hands or instruments. Every interlocking circle was made up of a snake eating its own tail. 

"It's beautiful. Is that the Ouroboros?"

"The crest of my House, yes." She must have looked impressed despite herself, going by Erik's grin. "This belonged to my grandmother. I want you to have it, as a token of my - " 

Raven raised her eyebrows when he stumbled. "Yes?"

" - Esteem," Erik finished with some difficulty. He glared at the bracelet, which rose out of its case and unclasped itself. At her nod, it wound itself around her right wrist and fastened with a click. 

Unsurprisingly, it was a perfect fit.

"Thank you," Raven said. And then, because she couldn't resist teasing him, "nice word choice."

This time Erik had no trouble meeting her gaze. "We understand each other's needs, I think."

Out of the corner of her eye, Raven could just see Irene deep in conversation with Charles. 

"I hope so, husband. I hope so."

 

* * *

 

Irene Adler was just as formidable in person as Charles had been promised; tall and graceful as a willow and about as readable. He could see why she had such an intimidating reputation.

_"What most people don't realize about Adler is that she's clever. All that mysticism is just a front," Emma had said._

But that was Emma, who mistrusted sincerity in all shapes and forms because her powers had her convinced that there was no such thing as an honest person. Maybe Irene simply enjoyed being cryptic. Charles could relate.

With that in mind, his bow was as deferential as he could make it. "Your Grace. It's an honour."

"Likewise," Irene said coolly. "You've been avoiding me."

"I was a little worried," he admitted. More than a little, in truth.

Irene made a sound that was too sharp to be laughter. "You were right to be worried. I would have known you if you were in rags and chains. Tell me, why does the bird not fear the fire?"

Charles glanced around quickly - thankfully, Angel was talking to Johanna at the other end of the hall, Raven was fully engaged with Erik, and Irene's voice was never loud. No one had heard. Even if anyone had, there was precious little chance of them understanding what she had meant. 

Still, it never hurt to be careful.

"Because no flame can burn the undying," Charles said quietly. There it was, out in the open. Now he just had to deal with the consequences. "Are you going to tell Raven?"

Irene turned her head to face him for the first time, and Charles, who knew full well that she didn't need eyes to see, couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being scrutinized. "Are you?"

_Yes. No. I'm not sure. What would you have me do?_

"What does your Sight tell you?"

Irene sighed. "There are a few possibilities. All but one will ruin all of you." 

For the first time, Charles detected a hint of emotion in her stilted delivery, and in the tense line of her shoulders. It was strangely reassuring. He felt a touch less presumptuous about resting a hand on her shoulder, and was gratified when she didn't rebuke him for the gesture.

Long before this encounter, he'd known what he had to say. It didn't make the words come any easier. "I'm going to prove that the future isn't set in stone, not for any of us. But I need your help."

"Only if you tell her soon," Irene said, almost before he'd finished speaking. "If you don't, I will, and you won't like what follows."

Charles let his smile turn rueful. "I can imagine. Madame, I give you my word that I will tell her everything at the conclusion of this affair."

"That's not good enough," Irene said softly, almost gently.

"Your Grace. I - " 

"Swear to it."

"I swear on the blood of my House," Charles whispered. He took one of her gloved hands and kissed the back of it.

"Acceptable. See that you don't forget."

Her voice could have been termed warm. Perhaps she was smiling under the mask.

 

* 

 

Back in his own room, Charles took out his phone, dialed the number he'd been given by Shaw's lieutenant, and left a message. "It's done. The Prince was just married in secret. You need to move soon."

To his surprise, he got a call back within five minutes.

"Come to my chambers and we'll discuss it."

Before he could do just that, Charles went to visit his next door neighbour in the small wing of the palace Raven's staff had taken over.

"Hank? Hank, are you there? It's me."

Doctor Hank McCoy was a normal physician the same way Johanna was a normal lady-in-waiting, and Charles a normal courtier, which was to say not at all. His talents would have been wasted as a mere royal doctor, and it was the other, even more impressive aspects of his work that made him the perfect choice for his post. 

Charles waited patiently for him to put away whatever he was working on in his spare time. Sure enough, a few minutes passed before Hank replied. "Sorry about the wait! Give me a second to unlock the door."

Then the banging and cursing began as Hank picked - and in some cases, probably barged - his way through. He opened the door barely enough to stick his head through, unkept hair and all, and blinked owlishly behind his glasses.

"Right. Hi. You wanted the - "

"The clip I lent you," Charles said quickly, overriding whatever Hank had been about to blurt out.

Hank blinked at his severe tone. "Oh. You better come in."

Inside was not quite as bad as he'd imagined. Hank had wisely kept the mess to what was supposed to be his bedroom, and the sitting room of his suite was passably neat, if one ignored all the signs of a very quick tidying job. 

Charles had to grin. Brilliant as he was, it was reassuring to see Hank act his age sometimes. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," he said wryly, just to see Hank blush.

He wasn't disappointed. "No! I'm working on a few things, that's all. Um. I'm going to find your recorder." 

Hank blushed to the roots of his hair and bolted for the other room like Charles was both diseased and contagious while Charles tried to contain his amusement. 

A good deal of banging and cursing later, Hank emerged triumphant, holding a small box which he handed to Charles. Inside was a very tasteful silver tie clip. "Put this on. Starts recording when you press the button on the underside, entirely undetectable by scanners."

"Very nice. Good work," Charles said, honestly impressed.

Hank shrugged. "Just doing my job. Do you need anything else?"

Charles considered their proposed timetable. 

"Yes. But not yet."

 

*

 

Charles had always been fascinated by the noblemen and women who found his court persona repulsive and his apparent lack of shame unnerving. It had been something of a puzzle when he first arrived at the Symkarian Royal Court, because those same people could not help enjoying his practised, coy deference as their due. These days, he found it hilarious, not to mention convenient. 

The contemptuous front just made them easier to crack, in the end. Exhibit one: Sebastian Shaw, who was looking at Charles like he was an exotic circus animal.

"Having second thoughts?"

Charles shrugged easily. "Why would I? Frankly, Your Grace, I've always had a knack for picking the winning side."

"Well, aren't you a cold fish," Shaw said, with an odd blend of admiration and disgust. "I admit, I did wonder about that. Erik can be persuasive, you see. But my dear Emma did personally vouched for your trustworthiness."

Charles made himself look away and down, as if he had some dirty secret to hide. "Her Grace is too kind."

It worked. Shaw made a - rather rude - dismissive noise. "Yes, she's a regular bleeding heart. You'll have to tell me how you came to be so high in her regard."

A less observant person might have missed the implied threat. A less secure person might have been offended or scared. Charles merely inclined his head and looked back up at Shaw through his lashes. 

"It's a long story, Your Grace. But I promise to tell it with the appropriate colour when our enterprise is complete."

Shaw barked a laugh, reluctantly amused beneath the scorn. "Our enterprise. Interesting. And what, precisely, do you think that is?"

Charles smiled narrowly. "Strike first, before the princeling makes his move."

Speaking it aloud seemed to have worked some sort of magic; the silence that endured as Shaw stared hard at Charles was so charged he could almost feel it.

"The idea has occurred to me," said Shaw in a strangely soft, thoughtful voice, when he was finally done staring. "The early twenties are such a difficult age for children. The lack of gratitude is wearing, I admit."

Charles bowed his head. "As Your Grace pleases. Ah - may I make a suggestion? If it's not too forward of me to offer advice to the Regent of Genosha."

"Go on," Shaw said, all graciousness, like he'd never called Charles any terribly unpleasant names. Predicable.

"The next few days are crucial. Your Grace would do well not to raise suspicions by deviating from routine. Act like there's nothing to fear."

_Like, say, a routine invitation to dinner from the Symkarian princess._

 

* * *

 

Charles' eyes lit up when he spotted Erik up and pacing around his study like a caged panther, which made him feel significantly less pathetic for waiting up. It was well after midnight; the previous day had been one of the strangest and longest of his life, and yet the sight of Charles - mouth quirked into a smile and cheeks flushed with excitement - jolted him wide awake.

"You have it?"

His tone was perhaps a little more abrupt than it needed to be. Most palace servants would probably flinch. Angel would roll her eyes. Since he was the deceptively attractive bane of Erik's existence, Charles only smirked and stopped walking just inside Erik's reach.

"Good evening, Your Highness." 

Erik gave him a pointed look. "It will be if you have good news." 

"If by 'good news' you mean 'enough to hang Shaw and about a quarter of your government on', yes, I do," Charles said casually. "Aside from the Lord Chancellor, you're going to need to have General Kensington, Lord Kilgore and the Count of Ida arrested. I'll have the recording processed and sent to you for the rest of the names, but those can't wait. We have three days before he makes his move."

_Finally._

Three days before Shaw gave up any pretense of being a benevolent guardian of the throne and had Erik killed. No doubt he'd make it look like an accident. Or maybe someone else would be blamed, just like Leland was when Shaw ordered the assassination of Erik's parents. This time, though, Erik was ready for him.

None of the names surprised him, save perhaps for Lord Kilgore. As key players in Shaw's plan, they had to be taken care of before or during Shaw's capture. The only way to accomplish that was to divide up the Guard's forces, leaving only a small crew for the Palace. Which was optimal in the interests of stealth, anyway. It all worked out rather neatly.

"Then we'll make ours tomorrow. I'll contact Scott. Make sure Raven's ready to go."

When the dust settled, Erik would either be enthroned or dead. Either way, his limbo would be over. Whatever crazy desire he had to ask to know Charles' secrets could wait until then, as long as those secrets had nothing to do with Shaw. He owed Charles that much.

 _Part of caring for someone is letting them have their secrets,_ Erik's mother had told him, a long time ago, smiling in the face of his frustration. _You'll understand when you're older._

She was, it turned out, a little too optimistic. Years later, Erik was still no expert on how to care for someone without driving them away. But at least he finally knew the value of patience.

"Is there something on my face?" Charles said lightly, meeting his gaze head on, not a guilty twitch in sight.

_"Are you? Honest with me, that is."_

_"I try my best, Your Highness."_

Whatever Charles was hiding, he wouldn't use it to hurt Erik. That was all he needed to know, at least for now.

Erik allowed himself a smile. "No. You can go."

Charles stared at Erik for a long moment, still and solemn, before throwing his arms around Erik's neck and stealing a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip and soothing the indentation with a quick swipe of his tongue. When Erik dipped his head to reciprocate, Charles pulled back and graced him with a sweet, dazzling smile. 

"I would object to being dismissed, but it is a special occasion. Sleep well, Erik."

 

* * *

 

Hank shuffled in bright and early the next day as Raven was finishing her breakfast.

"Your Highness. You wanted to see me?" he asked hesitantly, eyes downcast. She'd never been loomed over so in such an unthreatening fashion. It was almost comical.

"You never look me in the eye." 

Hank seemed to shrink even further in on himself. "It's disrespectful," he muttered, red-faced.

It was really too cute. "Not if I give you permission. Look up," Raven said, playful but with the unmistakable bite of command. Hank's head came up immediately. His blush had spread even further down, but his eyes were still and strangely watchful. She'd always liked that about him. "Will you do something for me?"

Hank straightened his shoulders. For the first time, she registered how tall he was. "Anything, Your Highness."

Raven lowered her voice, even though there was no one around to overhear. "I need the most effective sedative you have."

There was a very short pause. "May I ask what for?"

"You want to help me, don't you?" Raven said softly. She leaned forward on her elbows and smiled at him like a friend sharing a dearly held secret. "You know the trouble we've been having with the Regent."

Hank's face cleared so fast it was startling. "Oh. Oh, of course. Right away, Your Highness. You can count on me."

"I know," Raven said warmly.

Did she, though? That moment of hesitation - but she couldn't afford to worry about it now. Maybe after all this was over.

 

*

 

Charles' sense of timing remained impeccable. He only wandered in when she'd finished her first cup of coffee, sparing her the trial of dealing with his disgusting morning cheer without chemical assistance. Not even the prospect of what amounted to an attempted coup appeared to dent his good mood.

"Good morning, Your Highness. Did you sleep well?"

She'd dozed fitfully, waking up in a nervous sweat whenever she let her guard down enough to fall asleep. But he wasn't really asking about that.

"Very well, actually. It was quiet."

The Royal Guard troops Erik had let in late last night had settled in a few of the spare rooms in her wing of the palace, kept to themselves and been spectacularly well behaved by all accounts. Raven was impressed despite herself.

"Good. Are you ready?"

The mere thought of what he was referring to made her heart race. Raven leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. "No. Not really. But I'll do my part, don't worry."

"I wasn't. You're going to be fine," Charles said, like it was a basic fact of the universe. She'd gotten used to that tone of voice, offering assurance whenever she needed it, but always with a sardonic edge to his smile, the two of them against the rest of her absurd world. She couldn't ever remember him looking so serious - and biting his lip, as if he was struggling against what he had to say next. "When this is over, I have a story for you."

Harmless words, really, so why did Raven feel like the room had suddenly gotten ten degrees colder?

She forced a grin with an effort. "I do like your stories. Just promise me it has nothing to do with your sex life."

It was the right note to strike - something flickered in the depths of Charles' eyes like a switch going off, and he chuckled, indulgent of and amused by her ribbing about his personal life as usual. 

"Whatever gave you that idea?" 

Raven's teasing reply died unspoken, interrupted by Johanna clearing her throat very loudly at the doorway. "The Countess is here, Your Highness."

Charles looked down, but not before she caught a glimpse of his rueful grin. "I'll go."

"I - all right. Good luck, Charles," Raven said, trusting him to understand everything she meant.

Charles nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Raven." He sketched the lowest bow he'd ever given her and backed out of the room.

 

* * *

 

It was still horrendously early in Symkaria, but Charles couldn't wait around much longer. Moira would just have to forgive him for waking her.

She picked up on the third ring. "Moira speaking."

"You sound sleepy. I'm sorry if this a bad time."

"Charles? Took you long enough to check in," Moira said, all honest affection underneath the grumbling, and Charles felt himself relax. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."

"My dear Moira, you have never been forgettable. Are we ready to go?"

"Everything's in place. We're just waiting for you to light the fire."

She said it lightly as if it was a bit of a laugh, instead of a code they both understood.

"Good. I'm almost done here. I'll be in touch again soon."

"Godspeed. Be careful."

"Thank you."

 

* * *

 

Raven stood to meet Irene when Johanna opened the door and tried to make her smile a little less ridiculous. Unfortunately for her dignity, Irene took down her hood as she strode into the room, dark hair spilling out in messy curls around her pale face, and her battle was lost then and there. 

For once, Irene wasn't wearing the mask. When she straightened from a deep courtesy, she seemed to be looking at and through Raven at the same time.

"Greetings, Queen-to-be."

"You keep calling me that."

Irene raised one fine eyebrow. "You don't like it?"

"It's scary and exciting at the same time. I don't know how I feel about it. Don't you ever have doubts, Irene?"

"All the time. But not about whether we should be together," Irene said softly. She leaned forward and pressed their mouths together. Her lips were soft and warm. "For luck. Raven - "

"I don't think you've ever said my name before," Raven said, grinning, almost dazed with happiness. Strange, how such a simple thing could warm her like that.

Twin spots of red appeared on Irene's pale cheeks. "A lovely name. It suits you."

She seemed almost shy, as if she had committed some awful breach of etiquette - which was true, strictly speaking, but what was propriety between lovers?

Lovers. Yes, that was right, wasn't it, no matter whose ring Raven wore. The thought spurred her into action again. She took Irene's hand and led her toward one of the couches.

"Come here, sit beside me. Would you like something to drink? Breakfast? I can send down to the chef - "

Irene smiled as she reached out and cupped Raven's cheek, gently demanding. "No, thank you. I came to talk. Are you nervous?"

"Yes," Raven said, and wanted badly to look away, but Irene's grip was firm. "Should I be?"

Irene drew back. For a long moment, she was as still as a statue. Then she nodded. "Be careful. Your enemies are closer than you think."

That strange chill from before came rushing back. Raven had to take a few deep breaths before she could respond.

"Do you get any less cryptic ever?"

Irene actually laughed, a clear, silvery sound that worked its way under Raven's skin and made her warm again. "I don't believe so. Hear me out." 

"I'm listening," Raven said. She valiantly resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself and settled for clutching at the arm of the couch.

"Most of the time, my Sight hardly extends further than the mundane sight it replaced. The further I look, the less reliable my power becomes. When I try to see your future - " Irene shook her head. For the first time, she seemed agitated. "It's always either glory or fire. Never any peace."

"How about both glory and fire?" Raven said, trying hard for casual and probably hitting flippant instead.

Irene's fingers closed around her wrist, tight enough to bruise. She didn't seem to notice, her entire attention fixed on whatever screwed up expression Raven had on her face. "Don't. You could do great things, Raven. I knew it to be true from the moment we met. But you must be careful."

Her eyes were amber in the morning light, wide enough to get lost in. Raven stroked the worry line between her brows with her fingers, as if she could erase it by sheer will alone. "I will. For you, I will."

"Be safe. Come back to me," Irene said, fierce and demanding, and Raven had to kiss her again.

 

*

 

Johanna saw Irene out with exaggerated deference, and returned with the kind of smirk that meant she was having a hard time not teasing Raven about what had just happened.

One look at Raven's face was enough to make her go grave.

"Johanna, go to His Grace the Regent and say that Erik and I would like to dine with him tonight. Make sure he commits to it. Eight PM sharp."

"Yes, Your Highness," Johanna said, without a hint of hesitation. "And - good luck."

 

* * *

 

"Ah, Captain Summers. Everyone settled and ready to go?"

Scott Summers was clearly unused to anyone being able to sneak up on him, but he recovered remarkably quickly, and even managed a smile when he turned to face Charles.

"Yes, sir."

"I can't stress enough how important it is that no one spreads the word on Shaw's arrest until the dust settles. Let none of his people out of your sight."

"Yes, sir."

"I believe I told you to call me Charles."

"Sorry, sir," Scott said without missing a beat, poker face fully intact. He only looked away when Charles smiled at him - an honest smile, not hiding a thing - which made him observant as well as disciplined. "Uh - have we met before? Not including this week, I mean."

It was an impulse unworthy of a mature diplomat, but Charles wouldn't be a proper protégé of Emma Frost if he could resist playing with unsettled young men. He took a step forward and let his eyes go wide, projecting harmless inquisitiveness. "Why, do I look familiar?"

"A bit."

Which was potentially troublesome. He'd been hoping Scott had left home early enough to be a bit fuzzy on the details about Carrion Cove. Especially the gossip about Nathaniel Essex.

"Maybe we have met. You just don't remember."

Scott gave him the wide-eyed look of someone trying to convince themselves that they didn't need to freak out, because surely Charles was joking. "I try not to get that drunk," he eventually said with a dry laugh. 

His powers of recovery really were admirable. As Charles had suspected, Erik had a good eye for people.

"Probably wise," Charles conceded. "Have you ever thought about moving back home?"

Scott hesitated. "Sometimes. I do miss it. His Highness needs me here, though."

"His Highness is a lucky man, to inspire such loyalty," Charles said softly.

"Yes, I agree," Erik said from the doorway.

Charles had to work very hard to disguise a laugh at seeing someone as stoic as Scott go deathly pale and leap backwards as if Charles was on fire. The man could certainly move fast when he desperately wanted to.

"Your Highness. I - "

"At ease. I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation."

Except he clearly did. Erik was staring at Charles with the brilliant intensity that he had caught just a glimpse of on their first meeting, and set himself the task of unearthing. Charles allowed himself a smile, then, for a job well done.

"Ready to begin, Your Highness?"

Erik nodded. "As I'll ever be. Scott, get everyone into position. Check in with the other squadrons, make sure they're ready to begin. Try not to attract attention until we have Shaw inside."

"Yes, sir." 

Scott saluted sharply, turned on his heels and left, footsteps measured and totally unhurried. As always, Emma had interesting taste in men. Which was - actually a very relevant point for what they were about to do.

"Let's go."

 

* * *

 

Everything was in place, Shaw had just arrived in the Symkarian delegation's wing of the Palace, and - Raven was nowhere to be found.

"Where is she?" Erik hissed. Of all the times to have a communications breakdown...

He'd never seen Charles look worried before. It was a disturbing sight. "I'm not sure. We have to start now, Erik."

Unfortunately, Charles was right. They were five minutes behind schedule already. Even as they agonised over what to do, the other three squadrons of the Guard were in the process of arresting Shaw's main allies, and Scott would be moving to secure Shaw's rooms.

Erik took a deep breath. "Okay. Let him in."

 

*

 

Shaw's sharp gaze swept the dining room, coming to a stop when he spotted Charles. "Ah, Charles, what a pleasant surprise." His greeting for Erik seemed like an afterthought in comparison.

All in all, it was a display typical of the kind of casual rudeness Erik had been subjected to since he returned to Hammer Bay at the age of twenty-one. Normally it made his blood boil. Tonight, the knowledge of what he was about to do - and the weight of the service pistol in its hidden holster on his hip - set Shaw's petty offenses into stark relief.

It cost him nothing to acknowledge the man's greeting with a nod and gesture him toward the other end of the fine mahogany dining table. "Sebastian. Take a seat."

Beside him, Charles bowed very low. "I apologize on Her Highness' behalf. She's not feeling very well, and asked me to come in her place."

"That's awful," Shaw said, his face a terribly convincing mask of genial concern. "If she requires medical care, please do let me know."

Charles smiled his inscrutable courtier's smile. "Your Grace is too kind."

"Not at all. Sit down, eat with us."

Erik decided very quickly that he didn't like the amused, almost predatory look Shaw was giving Charles.

_You only think you know him._

"Yes, sit," he said brusquely. "Let's start on the food before it gets cold."

 

* * *

 

"Your Highness!" 

Angel's breathless voice carried all the way across the long corridor. She had broken into a - thoroughly improper - flat-out run when she spotted Raven, and the panicked look on her face was enough to get Raven to stay still and wait, no matter how much she wanted to run off herself.

"Can this wait? I need to get back."

"No, it can't!" Angel panted, coming to a neat stop in front of Raven and taking her none-too-gently by the arm. "Come with me."

Raven let herself be dragged to the nearest secluded alcove, and patiently waited Angel out as she got her breath back and regained composure at record speed.

"Thank God I caught you. The Count of Ida's in the palace, asking for Shaw. I stalled him because I wasn't sure what the situation was at Shaw's quarters, but he's heading this way."

She recognised the name as one of the conspirators Erik had ordered the Guard to arrest. They were probably realizing right at this moment that the nest of their prey was empty. 

"Dammit, we can't afford an interruption now."

The Count obviously couldn't be allowed to realize what had happened to Shaw, let alone walk in while he was being dosed with sedatives.

Angel nodded, her face grim. "He's not going to be satisfied unless he sees Shaw. What do we do?"

Charles was with Erik. Together, they could take care of Shaw. This was something only she could do.

"Leave it to me," Raven said with perfect confidence, gratified with Angel didn't argue. Belief was, after all, half the battle. She glanced down pointedly at Angel's hand on her arm. "Can I go now?"

Whatever she expected in response, it wasn't for Angel to smirk and tighten her grip. "Just one more thing. I promise it's important. Do you know what this is?"

She held up a red pin in the shape of a bird with its wings spread and two long tails.

The last time Raven had seen a similar symbol was in a picture book, with her governess' soft voice reading out the name of each noble house as Raven pointed to their seal. The two-tailed bird was - 

Raven felt her eyes widen. "That's the seal for the Psionics. The Houses of the Phoenix - Grey and Xavier. Where did you see this?"

Her voice rose, unsteady and demanding, and genuine fear flashed through Angel's dark eyes. "Maybe it's nothing, but - Keep an eye on Essex, all right?"

Which was not an answer, and now she had a million more questions and no time to ask.

"Okay."

 

*

 

There were double the number of guards outside the entrance to her quarters than usual. Erik had reassured her that the extra men would not attract undue notice, since he'd made it known around the Palace that he wanted the rooms of his bride-to-be as secure as possible. The Guard had disguised themselves well - if she didn't know better, she would have taken them for the usual blank-faced members of Palace security.

One of them, a well-built young men with a thin face and heavy-lidded eyes, stepped forward and saluted smartly. "Your Highness. You're, uh - "

"I know I'm late," Raven hissed in an undertone. "Listen up. The Count of Ida is going to turn up in a second. Before he does, I need half of you to disappear. He doesn't know what goes on around here. Too many guards will look suspicious." 

The young man who had spoken nodded. He cast his eyes at the four young men standing on the other side of the double doors, who immediately took off. "Yes, Your Highness. If I may ask, what are you going to do?"

Raven smirked. "Make him go away."

She could only hold a full change for a few minutes at a time. That was fine - a few minutes was all she needed, as long as she could manage the transformation.

_"You don't have to be afraid of anyone. Not with what you can do," Charles had said, and she knew then that he was for real._

One of the Guards stuck his head around the corner. "He's coming!"

Raven took a deep breath and reached for her power, calling on all of it for maybe the first time in her life, and felt it ripple through her body, remaking every cell in Sebastian Shaw's image.

When the Count of Ida approached the double doors, he saw only the Regent striding forward to meet him, smiling with barely concealed venom.

"Here to tattle on me?"

The Count - a tall, thin, nervous-looking man - froze. "Your Grace! I heard you might be in trouble."

Raven spread her hands. "As you can see, I'm fine. And I'm in the middle of a rather important dinner. Go wait for me in my quarters. We have much to discuss later."

Her final words seemed to do the trick. The Count's voice was steady when he spoke again, and he offered a parting smile. "Yes, Your Grace. I look forward to it."

The change held until he was out of sight - just. 

Raven sighed in relief. "Guards?"

"Your Highness?" The leader of the squad said tentatively. All four of the Guards were giving her wide-eyed looks.

"Contact Captain Summers. Let them know the Count's coming, and make sure he's detained without attracting attention or letting him get a message out."

"Yes, ma'am."

She'd done her part. Now it was up to her partners in crime to do theirs.

 

* * *

 

The sedative was just as effective as Raven had promised. Shaw had barely finished his first glass of wine when his folk slipped out of his shaking hands. 

Charles leaned forward, all solicitous concern. "Your Grace, are you quite all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Shaw said, enunciating with care, the whole effort at not showing a shred of weakness made useless when he reached for his glass and knocked it over, spilling red all over the pristine white tablecloth.

Erik put down his own cutlery. Finally let himself smile the way he'd been wanting to all these years. If the slow-dawning alarm on Shaw's face was any indication, it conveyed his feelings very eloquently. "No, I don't think so. You see, your drink's been drugged."

"You should be feeling some lethargy and encounter difficulty when you try to move, and your thought processes are probably slowing down. In about a minute you won't have the coordination or focus necessary to lift a finger," Charles said dispassionately. "Don't bother yelling, these rooms are quite soundproof."

Shaw's mouth twisted into an ugly smirk. His words were increasingly slurred, but no less cutting for it. "Let me guess, you've got the Guard waiting outside. What are you going to do, arrest me? You don't have the guts."

"But I do," Erik breathed, eyes fixed on Shaw's face. Waiting for defeat, despair, something that would grant him any measure of satisfaction. "I've waited a long time for this moment, Sebastian."

Shaw barked out a laugh. "Fine, then. Take me into custody. What next? Do you really think any court in Genosha would dare convict me? They'll be petitioning for my release before the day is out. I was making Genosha great while you were still in the womb, princeling. When you look around the Court, what do you see? They're all mine, every single one of any importance, and you know it."

"I'll change that," Erik said, his voice shaking. "One way or another, you'll confess - "

"No, never. Go on, you coward," Shaw snarled. "Kill me. It's the only - " 

His eyes shut and his mouth went slack. The drug had done its work.

Erik stood with a clatter. He took out his service pistol.

Charles stood with him. "Erik, no. He was just trying to bait you," he said urgently. "Put the gun down."

But Shaw's ravings had their own inexorable logic. Maybe Erik couldn't afford to let Shaw be tried. If they locked him up, how long would he be there before his acolytes broke him out? Would the courts convict a man who'd enriched them for fifteen years? Would the military stand for it?

Shaw's cold, contemptuous voice, calling him _coward_ and _princeling_ , echoed in his head.

"No. No, he murdered my parents. I'm going to kill him," Erik said, quietly, calmly. He clicked off the safety on the pistol.

"Erik, listen to me," Charles said. He had stayed in place, half way between Erik and Shaw, as if unsure what would set Erik off. The raw, pleading note in his voice recalled Erik's attention despite himself. "Will doing this make you happy?"

"The punishment for high treason is death," Erik ground out. His voice shook.

Charles' eyes went cold. "That's not what I asked."

Nothing but the truth would do, it seemed. Charles had earned it, at the very least.

"I need to do it. Otherwise there's no closure. No end. No peace."

"Then - " Charles closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were wet. He looked like he was in physical pain. "Then I won't stop you, even though I want to. But there's a price, Erik. Do you understand me?"

Throat too tight to speak, Erik nodded. 

Charles took one long step toward Shaw and bought two fingers to his temple in a peculiar gesture of concentration. His eyes widened. "The drug's leaving his system too fast, he's coming to. I can't hold him still for long - if you're going to do it, Erik, do it now!"

Erik took careful aim at Shaw's peculiarly still form and fired. Once, twice, three times in quick succession, following the path of each bullet into Shaw's body. He would have gone on, emptied the entire clip into Shaw's twitching body, if not for the chilling scream that tore itself from Charles' throat as he collapsed to the floor.

The world beyond his pistol and Shaw's body rushed back into focus. Erik dropped to his knees beside Charles' prone form and gathered him carefully into his arms. "Charles. Charles. Are you all right?"

"Huh. I wasn't sure I could do that," Charles said slowly, in a croaky whisper. He was still shaking, breathing in pained pants. "He - He's dead. I'm okay. It just - when you shot him. Hurts."

It was as if the last piece of a great puzzle had finally clicked into place. For the first time, Erik thought he saw the full picture. And what it said about Charles - 

But that was for later. Right now, Charles had fulfilled his promise to Erik, and hurt himself in the process.

"I'm so sorry," Erik said, carefully tucking a stray strand of hair behind Charles' ear. 

Charles made an abortive attempt at shaking his head and stopped with a pained whimper. His forehead was shiny with sweat, brows furrowed in pain. "No, don't be. I chose to do this for you."

Erik nodded. "I don't know how I'll repay you, but I'll sure as hell try."

Charles' smile then was beautiful like nothing else he'd ever seen, utterly radiant with triumph. "That's better." He raised his head with some difficulty and kissed Erik's heavy signet ring. "Long live the King."

Then his head lolled against Erik's arm.

"Charles! Charles, are you all right?"

Erik's world narrowed again, this time to Charles' unresponsive body, and the hammering of his own heart as he pressed his ear to Charles' chest. He didn't hear Raven approach until she was right behind him.

"What's wrong? Let me see," she said, the snap of command almost entirely hiding her own rising panic.

"It's fine. He just passed out," Erik said, dazed with relief. "Shaw's dead."

Raven didn't even spare the body a single glance. Her eyes were fixed on Charles' face, even as she spoke matter-of-factly to Erik. "Captain Summers reported back. It's done. We won."

 

* * *

 

In a way, Charles was lucky. He got to sleep through the tedium of endless meetings and decrees that followed the excitement of implementing their plan. 

(Hank had taken one look at Charles and told Erik and Raven in no uncertain terms to let him sleep it off. It was the most assertive Raven had ever seen him. She was actually pretty impressed.)

Twenty hours after the death of Sebastian Shaw, Charles woke up and asked to see her.

The Charles that met her at the doorway to his quarters seemed no different to the one she'd known for so long - fresh-faced, self-possessed, blue eyes lighting up when he saw her. Even with what she knew and what she now suspected, she found it hard to imagine him any other way.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he said dismissively, ushering her into the room with a gentle hand on her elbow. "But tell me about the rest of the plan. Where were you at dinner?"

She hadn't actually told anyone this part yet. Erik hadn't asked for details.

"I was going to go join you, but the Count of Ida turned up looking for Shaw. I used my power and took care of it."

Charles wound his arms around her, beaming with pride, and kissed her forehead. "Brilliant. You are so brilliant, I love you."

"Is that right?" Raven said quietly. "But you're going to break poor Erik's heart."

She saw the moment her words stuck home, the way his eyes changed. "Raven. I - "

"I'm not blind," Raven continued relentlessly, ignoring Charles' flinch. "You've got your hooks so deep in him it would take years of digging to get them out."

She wasn't sure what she expected. Definitely not the self-deprecating smile that crept onto his face. "You think so?"

"You slept with him."

"Yes. You knew that already."

They'd even joked about it. Raven was no hypocrite - she had no issue with Erik sleeping with whoever took his fancy. Charles was a better choice than most, since he was loyal to her. But when she came into the dining room and saw the way Erik looked at Charles, when he thought Charles was seriously hurt by whatever he'd done to kill Shaw, she finally understood that there was more to it. 

"Not only that, he's borderline in love with you."

"Is he?" Charles said evenly.

Raven sighed. "Asking you to stop whatever it is you're planning would be a waste of breath, wouldn't it?"

Before, Charles' hands on her shoulders had always felt like a source of strength. Now, it was as if he was drawing strength from her in return.

"I didn't do this to take anything away from you. Please say you believe me."

Of course, the worst part of it all was that she did. Always had, and despite all her new fears and doubts, that hadn't changed. But she had to know. 

Raven narrowed her eyes. "All right, I don't want him and you knew that from the start. But say that I did..."

Charles smiled like she was breaking his heart. "I can't. Not even for you, my dear beloved Raven."

She looked into his eyes and saw that it was true.

"When I met you, you were just another clever courtier scrambling for influence. If not for me, you wouldn't be here today, and this is how you repay me?"

"I know how it looks," Charles said quickly. "Believe me, I know. But there's more at work here than you understand."

"Then make me understand," Raven said, exasperation winning out over any real anger. "Are you telling me that your life goal is to sleep with a foreign prince? It's - come on, Charles, it's beneath you."

Charles threw his head back and laughed. It was his real laugh, low and wicked, and for the first time Raven heard the menacing edge in it.

"Of course, you're right," he said finally, all the mirth gone from his voice. "But not the way you think. I'm not who you think I am."

Only then did she notice the pin on his lapel. Red, in the shape of a bird with its wings spread and two long tails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait (and that cliffhanger). This part concludes the Genoshan storyline, and I hope you enjoyed it. Next, we move on to the central question of the throne of Symkaria.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is adored. I'm terribly slow at replying, but I do always reply.


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